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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25487944">The Potions and Promises of the Half-Blood Prince</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/elliebennett/pseuds/elliebennett'>elliebennett</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>HP fics [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Animagus Harry Potter, Animal Transformation, Character Study, Courting Rituals, Courtship, Fred Weasley Lives, Good Severus Snape, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hermione Granger is a Good Friend, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Magical Theory, No Bashing, Post-Canon, Redemption, Ron Weasley is a Good Friend, Slow Burn, Smart Harry Potter, Study of Ancient Runes (Harry Potter), Unwanted Advances, no beta we die like men, not by main pairing, there is no non con but there is a mention of it, we love all characters equally</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 02:46:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>105,541</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25487944</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/elliebennett/pseuds/elliebennett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Ministry of Magic has a fantastic idea, like it always does: </p><p>The Eternal Entwining Festival. </p><p>Not only has it got a stupid name, the ridiculous courting festival is about to create a lot of trouble for Harry Problems Potter, who just wants to keep his head down and pass his NEWTs. The last thing he needs is people sending him love letters in the mail - and whatʼs this about bloody ribbons round his wrist? </p><p>- </p><p>Or: Slow Burn Snarry with ridiculous wizarding courting thrown in because itʼs FUN, and also a crap ton of magical theory, some introspective character study and even a lil dash of philosophy and humour. </p><p>And George Weasleyʼs left ear. Because reasons.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harry Potter &amp; Severus Snape, Harry Potter/Severus Snape, Hermione Granger &amp; Harry Potter &amp; Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom/Ginny Weasley</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>HP fics [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1858453</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>649</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1568</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Best of the Best, Platinum - HP</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Potions and Promises of the Half-Blood Prince</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24380878">Petals and All</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/wynnebat/pseuds/wynnebat">wynnebat</a>.
        </li>
        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/3124859">The Courtship of Harry Potter</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/dkwilliams/pseuds/Diana%20Williams">Diana Williams (dkwilliams)</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/dkwilliams/pseuds/dkwilliams">dkwilliams</a>.
        </li>
        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/670548">The Boy Who Died A Lot</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/starcrossedgirl/pseuds/starcrossedgirl">starcrossedgirl</a>.
        </li>

    </ul><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <b>PLEASE NOTE: my portrayal of Snape will lean heavily towards Movie Snape rather than Book Snape, as Movie Snape is a much more redeemable character and Alan Rickman's great performance makes Snape more likeable.</b>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Thanks for reading, hope you enjoy! Xx</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The day Harry's world implodes, he is eating broccoli for breakfast.</p><p>There is a lot wrong with this, of course - mainly, that Harry does not generally appreciate world-ending events, particularly when it is his <em>own</em> world which is so dramatically ending and especially when his world is ending <em>before breakfast </em>- but the fact that he is eating broccoli for breakfast at seven o'clock at night is, admittedly, entirely his own fault. As is usually the case, many of the woes Harry is suffering under are totally self-inflicted, and Hermione has no problem at all in pointing this out to him.</p><p>'You shouldn't have stayed up so late,' she says chidingly, but her voice is more exasperated affection than true annoyance, so Harry counts it as a win and grins at her. She rolls her eyes. 'You look... well, <em>terrible</em>.'</p><p>Harry shrugs. Frankly, he's looked worse - and admittedly that's because he was on the run from Voldemort at the time, so it's an incredibly low bar, but that's <em>not the point</em> - and if he doesn't have a half-starved, desperate, gaunt look about him... well, it can't be <em>that</em> bad.</p><p>'Are we witnessing the slow death of Harry Potter's liver?' George asks cheerfully from a few seats down.</p><p>'I didn't drink <em>that</em> much,' Harry says a little defensively. It's true. Mostly. Plus, he had enough sense to eat beforehand, and he'd stuck to butterbeer and water for the second half of the night, so... it wasn't <em>too</em> bad, not really. And he's pretty sure Hermione laced half his drinks with Sobering Charms and watered down his shot of Firewhiskey before she went to bed.</p><p>Fred snorts disbelievingly. 'I do believe I sense a falsehood, O brother mine,' he says solemnly.</p><p>'The fame went to his head, and now the booze has too,' George mourns.</p><p>'What wicked corruption the Golden Boy has fallen to. It happens to the best of them.'</p><p>'I fear the worst for the internal organs of our Saviour,' George agrees grimly. 'Action shall have to be taken. We must steal some kidneys immediately.'</p><p>'Pretty sure my kidneys are fine,' Harry says sarcastically, chucking a floret of broccoli at George's head. George, being George, catches the broccoli in his mouth and chews on it cheerfully. Fred laughs at him delightedly, along with several other students sitting near them at the Gryffindor table, and Harry can't help but join in.</p><p>It feels good to laugh, and not have anything hovering over him to take that away. This happiness is <em>his</em>, now, and he gets to keep it.</p><p>It is the greatest privilege, the most valuable treasure - an unparalleled miracle, really - and Harry has already promised himself he will never forget how lucky he is to be healthy and happy and <em>alive</em>.</p><p>Of course, just as he's in the middle of celebrating his wonderful new life - and recovering from the wild party the night before in Gryffindor Tower that had lasted until six am - the world decides to go completely bonkers.</p><p>Headmistress McGonagall strides into the Great Hall, clutching a sheaf of parchment in her hand and looking mildly disturbed. For a moment Harry is wildly panicked, before he forcibly reminds himself that there are no more Death Eaters or battles or Voldemort, and that he's safe.</p><p>He still snaps his gaze to the twins and Hermione, compulsively reassuring himself that they're okay. Ron and Neville are still hungover in their dorm room, and it hurts him not to be able to check on them immediately.</p><p>Hermione smiles a little sadly at him and reaches her hand across the table to him. Harry grips her slim fingers tightly for a moment before he forces himself to let go.</p><p>He breathes.</p><p>Once his anxiety has abated and curiosity has taken its place, Harry turns to watch Professor McGonagall ascend the short set of steps at the front of the Hall and take her place behind the podium. Hogwarts isn't due to start back for another week, but the Hall holds most of the many volunteers that have spent the summer repairing and rebuilding the ancient castle.</p><p>Some students, Harry knows, are here because they no longer have anywhere else to go. A few older graduates, like Fred and George, have decided to study Masteries under some of the professors. Harry still suspects that the twins' Charms Mastery is an excuse to look out for Ron and Ginny, despite Fred swearing that it will help them with developing new products for their shop.</p><p>The Headmistress taps her wand to her throat and then calls for the room's attention. She receives it almost instantly.</p><p>'My apologies for interrupting your dinner, but if I could have a moment of your time...' McGonagall waits until everyone is looking at her before glancing back down at the parchment in her hand and frowning slightly before continuing.</p><p>'I have been asked by the Ministry to inform you all that...' McGonagall hesitates, giving the letter in her hands a severely disapproving look, and Harry begins to wonder what exactly is written on the parchment to irritate their Headmistress so thoroughly. McGonagall clears her throat. 'The Ministry has decided to hold the... <em>Eternal Love Entwining Festival</em>,' Professor McGonagall's voice is so thick with disdain that Harry can't help but smile despite his confusion. 'All witches and wizards that have reached their majority have been invited and are encouraged to participate, including the seventh and eighth year students of Hogwarts, although younger years may also take part in the first three stages. It shall commence at midnight on the twenty second of September.'</p><p>Before McGonagall has even finished speaking, the Hall is awash with a rush of excited, delighted voices - particularly those of the pureblood girls. All of the Muggleborns and some of the halfbloods blink at each other bemusedly, but those raised with wizarding tradition are alight with some sort of unholy, gleeful energy, leaning towards each other with bright eyes and feverish voices.</p><p>Within seconds the Hall is a small scale riot, and Harry doesn't have the faintest clue why. He turns to Hermione expectantly, hoping for some sort of explanation, but for once she is as hopelessly lost as he is.</p><p>Where's Ron when you need him?</p><p><em>Hungover in his bed</em>.</p><p>Hermione turns to the Weasley twins, who look somewhere between surprised and mischievous, and demands, 'What is that?'</p><p>'What is what, dearest Hermione?' Fred asks cheerily, his entire face a painting of oblivious innocence. Only a blind man would trust that look on that face.</p><p>'The "<em>Eternal Love Entwining Festival</em>",' Hermione says in the tone of voice of a Ravenclaw who is being denied knowledge and does <em>not</em> appreciate it in the slightest. Her voice makes it clearer than crystal that if Fred doesn't offer up a lengthy answer post haste, Hermione will be prying the words out of him with a sharpened fork.</p><p>'Ah, <em>that</em>,' Fred says with an air of surprise, as if he hadn't expected Hermione's question at all. Hermione's hand tightens around her fork. Fred and George stroke invisible beards with non-existent wisdom.</p><p>'Well, dearest Hermione,' George begins dramatically, 'much as it pleases us to know something you don't-'</p><p>'Truly a rare occasion-' Fred interjects.</p><p>'We will deign to bestow our worldly knowledge upon thy young, impressionable minds.' George grins.</p><p>A significant portion of the Gryffindor table is now listening eagerly to the twins' storytelling, and they seem well aware of it, affecting overly dramatic expressions and beginning to wave their hands around with great mystery and emotion.</p><p>'Long, long ago...'</p><p>'When Merlin and Morgana still walked this earth...'</p><p>'Before the time of even the Fearsome Founders...'</p><p>'There was a tradition to find <em>true</em> <em>love</em>...'</p><p>'Every wizarding village would partake in it, betwixt at least two sister equinoxes...'</p><p>'Sometimes perhaps even a full year, if there were many in the village...'</p><p>'And they would follow a series of steps to gain the affection of their heart's desire...'</p><p>'But what did they actually <em>do</em>? And what does it have to do with the festival?' Hermione interrupts, frowning at their delaying tactics.</p><p>'Patience, youngling...' George chastises, wagging a finger at her. 'You cannot rush such wisdom.'</p><p>Hermione looks ready to throttle him, and Harry can't fight down his smile at the twins' antics.</p><p>'These traditions that the villages would partake in have been passed down over the centuries, and over time they became a ritual that was widespread throughout Magical Britain by the time of the Founders.'</p><p>'It was called The Stitching of Split Souls-'</p><p>'The Red Threads of <em>Amore</em>-'</p><p>'The Great Search-'</p><p>'The Lover's Divining-'</p><p>'Yes, but-' Hermione begins frustratedly, but Fred holds up a hand to stop her.</p><p>'But now it is most widely known as The Eternal Entwining-'</p><p>'Or The Twining for short-'</p><p>'Even though it's not actually eternal and you can get out of it at any time.'</p><p>'Get out of <em>what</em>?' Hermione huffs.</p><p>'The festival to find true love, of course,' Fred says cheerfully.</p><p>'It's basically a big ritual courtship process,' George explains, finally taking pity on Hermione's evident impatience and burning curiosity. 'Hasn't actually been officially held in over a hundred years, but there are still certain pockets of wizarding communities that do it every three years or so.'</p><p>'So it's... matchmaking?' Hermione asks dubiously, her brow crinkling.</p><p>'No, no, no, my innocent little witch, it is <em>the great search for the other half of your soul</em>.'</p><p>The fact that Fred pronounces this with extreme dramatics leads Harry to believe that what he's saying may not be the most strictly factual of statements.</p><p>Fred wiggling his fingers and grinning at Hermione a moment later only cements this suspicion.</p><p>'So you're supposed to follow the steps and ask someone out?' a Muggleborn asks curiously from the other side of the twins. Harry can't remember her name, but he thinks she's about to start fifth year. He remembers her helping to rebuild the Charms corridor with a handful of other students and Flitwick.</p><p>'Yes and no,' George says vaguely, waving his hand in the air. 'It's more of a declaration of interest at first, although in the very beginning you can use the ritual to demonstrate your friendship or platonic affection for someone. The modern adaptations don't necessarily have to be romantic in the beginning, but once you move past the initial stages it's all very much a passion-filled affair.' He wiggles his eyebrows at the Muggleborn girl, who blushes slightly.</p><p>'What are the stages?' Hermione half-asks, half-begs. Seer or no, Harry can divine a long trip to the library in his near future.</p><p>'Well, it depends on which variation you use, since there are loads,' George says affably, 'but usually there are six or seven, nine at the most.'</p><p>'Unless you live in South Wales, where there are thirteen, or parts of Ireland, which have up to twenty one steps,' Fred added with a grin. 'Apparently they like to take their time there.'</p><p>'Well, you are attempting to find and woo the love of your life, Forge,' George points out blithely.</p><p>'Absolutely right, Gred,' Fred replies solemnly. "Tis a very serious affair that cannot be rushed.'</p><p>Hermione stares thoughtfully at a platter of carrots for a moment before refocusing on the twins. Harry can almost see the mental list of questions she is compiling and decides that his premonition was not nearly extensive enough - clearly there will be <em>several</em> trips to the library, and additional interrogations of all those with a hint of wizarding knowledge to boot.</p><p>'So it's a cultural thing, then?' a curious voice pipes up from a couple seats down. Turning to the young speaker, Harry glances at the small, skinny brunet who sits up straight with visible eagerness and shoves glasses back up his nose when they start to slip. Harry can't help the smile that quirks his lips at the sight.</p><p>'It's an old tradition, but it's mostly gone out of fashion apart from the wizarding communities deep-rooted in their history,' another voice says from behind Hermione, and Harry turns to see Anthony Goldstein standing behind them. 'Good evening Harry, Hermione.'</p><p>Harry nods back as Hermione offers a quick greeting, quickly latching onto this newest opportunity for information.</p><p>'So you've heard of this festival, Anthony?' Hermione queries as casually as she can - which admittedly isn't a lot, but at least she's polite about it. 'Do you know much about it?' she asks hopefully.</p><p>Goldstein, clearly seeing an opportunity himself, slides into a spare seat on their bench and begins regaling his attentive audience on the finer details of the festival. Fred and George don't seem to care at all that they've been upstaged. Terry Boot even makes an appearance, further expounding upon the intricacies of finding your other half in the festival, and by the end of it all Harry's head is spinning with more information about wizarding courtship than he'd ever thought he'd need.</p><p>Goldstein and Boot are quick to establish the six main stages of the courtship: Friendship, Declaration, First Affection, Second Affection, Proposal and Acceptance.</p><p>'Or Rejection, if you're a poor wee sod,' Fred says of the last stage.</p><p>'Well, you can be rejected at any time... it'd be pretty cruel to wait until then,' Boot says, looking a little uncertain. 'It's usually best to let a suitor know after their Declaration of Interest if their feelings aren't reciprocated.'</p><p>'It wouldn't be fair to drag it out if you had no intention of accepting,' Goldstein agrees.</p><p>'Ah, my dear Ravenclaws,' George sighs, 'but when has life or love ever been logical or fair?'</p><p>'Some people do let it go on just to get the courtship gifts,' Goldstein admits after a moment, looking a little sour.</p><p>'Gifts?' Hermione asks, latching onto this new tidbit.</p><p>Boot nods. 'A significant part of the courtship process is gift giving. Initially it's done only by the suitor seeking to win their beloved's attention and affection, but at later stages the courted usually reciprocate to show their own interest and return the feelings that have been declared.'</p><p>Goldstein leans forwards enthusiastically. 'Gifts are especially important when multiple suitors are courting the same person. It becomes a competition to give the best gift and prove themselves the most suitable and preferential match.'</p><p>Hermione's nose wrinkles slightly as she turns this over in her head. Harry suspects modern day Muggle feminism is colliding with acknowledgement of the generosity involved in such gift-giving and she's struggling to decide whether the whole thing sounds archaic or not.</p><p>'Well,' Hermione says at last, 'I suppose it's important to learn about other cultures and accept them, even if they seem a bit... old fashioned. Can women only be the courted, or can they be suitors too?'</p><p>'Gender doesn't factor into it unless you're the wrong one for your intended's preferences,' Goldstein says.</p><p>'Oh.' Hermione looks pleasantly surprised by this revelation.</p><p>'If you want purebloods to accept the Muggleborns' traditions, you're going to have to do the reverse too,' George points out with a wide grin but a hint of solemnity in his gaze. Hermione blinks at him.</p><p>'Of course,' she says automatically, looking a little taken aback.</p><p>'There's no harm in it, really,' Fred adds, twirling a spoon. 'Not like back in the good old days, when Houses were forced to participate. Then our friend Harry here would really be in trouble.'</p><p>Harry raises his eyebrows questioningly. 'Why?'</p><p>'When The Twining was still a widespread and ingrained part of wizarding culture and society, each Ancient and Noble House was required to present at least one eligible person every ten years, if they had any.' Boot says, jumping at the chance to explain. 'Since you're the last living member of your House...' he trails off awkwardly.</p><p>'You'd have been forced to take part,' George says lightly. 'Isn't that delightful?'</p><p><em>No</em>, Harry thinks.</p><p>'Do you have to court someone that's also taking part in the festival, or can you court anyone? Do eligible participants have to sign up? What happens to those that are already in relationships?' Hermione rattles off her questions into the uncertain silence that follows Boot's acknowledgment of Harry's dead family, and Harry is grateful for the distraction.</p><p>'You can attempt to court someone that's already seriously dating someone else, but it's considered distasteful,' Goldstein says before Boot can open his mouth. 'Not so much if they've only shown casual interest in each other, but not everyone does it. It's a complete scandal if you court someone that's already married, and even worse if they don't immediately reject you. If you break up a marriage then it's a disaster.'</p><p>Harry can only imagine the drama that must have unfolded centuries ago when wizarding courtship was the norm. It was probably hilarious, and he suspects Aunt Petunia would have adored it.</p><p>'You don't have to register to take part, since the Ministry has invited everyone to participate, but there are usually restrictions of some sort in the more local festivals, such as only courting someone within the village, county or country,' Goldstein continues. 'Although obviously you can't court a Muggle,' he adds after a moment.</p><p>Harry, whose mind is still stuck on George's earlier comment about Noble Houses being forced to participate in the past, suddenly has a horrible realisation.</p><p>'Is there any way to not take part at all?' Harry asks the table a touch desperately. 'Or a way to declare yourself unavailable?'</p><p>Hermione looks at Harry with utter confusion for a moment, her mind likely still caught up in the excitement of discovering new knowledge about the wizarding world, but then comprehension dawns on her, quickly followed by pity.</p><p>'Not really,' Boot says apologetically, also having realised Harry's predicament. 'Unless you're in a serious monogamous relationship, you'll be considered eligible. And even then... that probably still wouldn't stop your more... <em>ardent</em> fans.'</p><p>'But I don't even know most of them!' Harry protests. 'They can't court me if they're complete strangers!'</p><p>Boot winces slightly.</p><p>Goldstein shrugs. 'Technically, they don't have to know you at all to court you - although that's not usually done, as having knowledge of your intended helps to strengthen your suit. A shared history, particularly a favourable one, is considered a boon.'</p><p>'But, well...' Boot gives Harry a sympathetic look. 'Suitors don't even have to reveal their identity until the fifth stage. It's uncommon but not unheard of for the suitor to remain anonymous for the first several stages of the courtship.'</p><p>That's... even worse.</p><p>'Don't worry about it, Harry,' Fred says brightly. 'You can just break hundreds of hearts at once by rejecting them all soundly and declaring yourself a free man!'</p><p>'The country will weep for weeks to come as their hopes and dreams are irreparably shattered,' George mourns.</p><p>'How will we ever cope?' Fred asks the air in front of him, gesturing with his cutlery. 'My heart throbs for my Harrykins! I see him every night in my dreams-'</p><p>This time, Harry manages to hit Fred squarely on the jaw with a sizeable chunk of steamed broccoli. For a moment he regrets that the broccoli wasn't raw. Or frozen.</p><p>Fred and George cackle. 'But Harrykins! I love you so!' Fred cries out, clutching his jaw with one hand. 'How could you turn me away so cruelly?!'</p><p>'I'll write you a sonnet!' George promises, winking cheekily and ducking the flying broccoli that sails his way a moment later.</p><p>'<em>Mr Potter</em>,' says a stern voice from behind Harry, and he turns quickly to see the unimpressed face of McGonagall staring down at him. 'Please refrain from launching your dinner across the table. We are not hooligans or animals, and this is not a stable.'</p><p>Harry's cheeks warm slightly at her reprimand. 'Yes, Professor,' he says guiltily. Even after fighting in a war, his Head of House can still reduce him to an anxious mess with one stern <em>look</em>.</p><p>'Please visit me in my office once you have finished your dinner,' McGonagall requests, and sweeps away once Harry has nodded in reply.</p><p>'Ooh, Little Harrykins, in trouble already,' Fred says the moment McGonagall is out of earshot.</p><p>'I haven't done anything,' Harry denies, out of habit more than anything. For once it's actually true.</p><p>'Oh, I know, O brother mine,' George says, voice dripping with glee in a way that promises nothing good for Harry in the next thirty seconds. 'Perhaps his first suitor has already come to declare themselves! Has McGonagall herself fallen for our dashing Chosen One? Who could resist our Saviour's smouldering-'</p><p>Blatantly ignoring McGonagall's reprimand delivered not even a minute before, Harry chucks a roast potato at George and watches with satisfaction as it <em>splats</em> against his chest, covering his green shirt.</p><p>'Don't take it personally, O Great One,' George says far too happily for someone that has potato all over their torso. 'You can't blame the masses if they've fallen for your dark, mysterious looks and <em>sunny</em> personality.'</p><p>'Oh yes, very sunny,' Fred agrees as Harry considers launching an entire platter of potatoes at George's head.</p><p>'<em>Mr Potter</em>,' comes an ominous whisper from behind Harry, and he turns with mounting to dread to meet the sharp, glittering gaze of Severus Snape.</p><p>'I do believe our Headmistress ordered you <em>not</em> to behave like a boorish, mannerless vagrant only moments ago.' Snape's voice is a soft hiss broken by crackling and abrupt roughness, the words struggling to pass unhindered through his scarred throat. 'Has your brain been so badly affected that you are incapable of retaining the most simple of instructions, or are you simply wilfully disrespectful and appallingly misbehaved? Shall I perhaps escort you to the Headmistress herself, or an evening in the dungeons scrubbing cauldrons?'</p><p>'No, sir,' Harry says quietly, face tinted red. He can't look Snape in the eyes for more than a second at most, and it's not because he fears the man using Legilimency on him. It's everything else: the shame, their messy history, the acerbic words spat from between Snape's lips which are, to an extent, deserved - but mostly it's the thick, angry scarring wrapped around his neck and the thin, black cane held tightly in Snape's left hand.</p><p>Harry had glimpsed Snape over the summer as Hogwarts was rebuilt. He's never seen the man with a cane before. In fact, the only wizard Harry can ever remember using a cane was Lucius Malfoy, and then it had only been for decoration and to store and hide his wand; no wizard Harry has met has ever needed a cane - why would they, when they could use magic instead?</p><p>'Then I expect you to refrain from displaying the same level of etiquette as a drunken monkey and <em>behave yourself</em>, Potter,' Snape snaps, and then in a swirl of long black robes and the faint tapping of cane against stone he is gone.</p><p>'You're not a drunken monkey, Harrykins,' George reassures him merrily as the rest of their group stares after Snape in tense silence, 'you're a drugged Erumpent.'</p><p>'Making messes everywhere you go,' Fred agrees dreamily, resting his elbows on the table and gazing at Harry with wide eyes.</p><p>George bats his eyelashes at Harry and tucks his hands beneath his chin with a simpering pout. 'You can make a mess of me, Harry,' he says in a high, breathy voice.</p><p>'I'm going to bloody kill you two in a minute,' Harry says grumpily, but his lips are traitors and twitch with his laughter despite his best efforts not to.</p><p>'<em>Naughty</em>,' Fred and George sigh in unison.</p><p>• • • • • •</p><p>'You're doomed, mate,' Ron tells Harry flatly after he and Neville have dragged themselves from their beds and are munching on the sandwiches Hermione brought them out of pity. They have both been regaled with the whole sordid tale of the Love Festival by a very unenthusiastic Harry.</p><p>'But why can't I just drop out?' Harry groans, tearing at a stray piece of lettuce as he sits cross-legged on his bed.</p><p>'Well,' Neville says a little hesitantly, 'usually people don't want to.'</p><p>'People don't usually have loads of crazy fans either though, do they?' Harry mutters.</p><p>'Erm, no.'</p><p>'Look on the bright side, mate,' Ron says encouragingly, despite having just declared Harry doomed, 'it'll only be for a couple of months, yeah? It's like the Yule Ball. We got through that alright in the end.'</p><p>Harry isn't so sure about that, but decides not to voice his doubts.</p><p>'Maybe you'll even find someone,' Neville says, gaining excitement as he leans forwards to gaze hopefully at Harry.</p><p>'Yeah, Nev's right! You never got back together with Ginny, so...' Ron trails off awkwardly for a moment at the mention of his sister before he rallies again. 'Now's your chance, mate!'</p><p>Whilst Harry appreciates the optimism, he's struggling to get on board with it.</p><p>'I'm going to be mobbed in the corridors again,' he sighs. He purposely ignores that he would've been mobbed in the corridors regardless of whether or not the Ministry had decided to hold this ridiculous festival.</p><p>'Yeah, but... we can use the Map, and the secret passageways, and we'll stick with you and keep the little buggers away,' Ron reassures him.</p><p>Neville, looking curious at the mention of the Map but not questioning it, nods along. 'We'll guard your honour and virtue,' he says with a grin.</p><p>Harry snorts, but smiles appreciatively to show that the offer is welcome.</p><p>'Although there won't be much we can do about the other students in your classes,' Ron muses, 'apart from always sitting next to you.'</p><p>'And some of the seventh years will be in class with us now,' Neville adds.</p><p>'Yeah, that could be a problem,' Ron admits.</p><p>And just when things can't possibly get any worse, Harry has a sudden, horrible recollection.</p><p>'Oh, bloody hell,' Harry groans, dropping back and thunking his head against his mattress. 'I forgot to go see McGonagall.'</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Today is a fantastic day.</p><p>First we are blessed with a surprise Taylor Swift album, and then I get an offer to be RA for my uni, and I find out that I will be in a flat with my friends next year.</p><p>And most importantly, there is ice cream in our freezer.</p><p>My heart is light, my words flow freely, my pores are somewhat clear and I am happier than pharrell rn lmao. Maybe 2020 won't be a complete trash fire after all.</p><p>So in celebration of this wonderful luck and the fact that yay I'm alive and healthy and happy... have this new fic I've been writing during lockdown. Two more chappies will be going up today once I've edited them c:</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Saviourʼs Many Suitors</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I have no beta and will be dying like a man... but in the meantime, if you see any mistakes or have any feedback, please let me know!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>'So kind of you to finally join me, Mr Potter,' Headmistress McGonagall says with no small amount of sarcasm once Harry has entered her office.</p><p>Harry flushes guiltily. 'Sorry Professor. I was a bit distracted,' he admits shamefacedly.</p><p>McGonagall watches him closely for a moment before her fierce expression softens. 'Quite,' she agrees, reaching for her biscuit tin, 'but I suppose that was to be expected.'</p><p>Harry obligingly takes the Ginger Newt she offers him and eats it for lack of anything better to do.</p><p>'I imagine you have realised by now the predicament you are in?' Professor McGonagall asks seriously once she has selected her own Ginger Newt and eaten it in three quick bites.</p><p>'I'm going to get courted,' Harry says with a sigh.</p><p>'To put it lightly,' McGonagall says with a frown that for once isn't aimed at Harry. 'You are going to be mobbed, Mr Potter. I anticipate no less than fifty suitors, perhaps more than a hundred, that will make an attempt for your hand.'</p><p>Harry chokes on the last bite of his Ginger Newt.</p><p>'Quite,' McGonagall says stiffly. 'The entire proposal is a shambles. A complete and utter spectacle, and Hogwarts has no choice but to participate. <em>We are an educational institution</em>-' Professor McGonagall pauses, purses her lips and forcibly cuts off what was likely a lengthy and passionate rant. 'It is ridiculous. Nevertheless, Mr Potter, we have no choice but to endure. Unfortunately, there is no way to withdraw you from the process and save you from the horde of gathering vultures, so you will have to conduct yourself with utmost dignity, integrity and caution in the ensuing chaos.'</p><p>Harry stares at her.</p><p>McGonagall sniffs and glares at the parchment scrolls on her desk. Harry is mildly surprised they don't immediately catch fire.</p><p>'Should you encounter any difficulties, I expect you to come to me with them immediately,' Professor McGonagall continues, giving Harry a steely look. Harry suspects she is remembering the Blood Quill fiasco from his fifth year, which he had kept rather tight-lipped about. Or his mad plan to attack the Ministry along with five fellow students to save Sirius. Or perhaps the Basilisk talking to him through the walls in second year and the discovery of the Chamber of Secrets. He'd kept rather quiet about those, too.</p><p>Harry nods obediently. 'Yes, Professor.' McGonagall scrutinises him for another moment before she lets it go.</p><p>'Whilst you are here, we might as well discuss your subject choices for the coming year,' McGonagall says, changing topics of conversation abruptly. 'I will not be your Head of House once the new school year officially commences, but as the decision has not yet been finalised, I am still technically the Head of Gryffindor.' McGonagall smiles - practically <em>smirks</em> - and Harry suddenly suspects that the intelligent witch had planned it to be so.</p><p><em>Maybe she'll miss it</em>, Harry thinks with a touch of wistful nostalgia. Headmasters and Headmistresses can't be Head of a House in order to prevent bias, and for so long McGonagall has taken great pride in her lions. It'll be a shame to lose her, but she'll still be in the school, and surely the replacement will be just as good. McGonagall wouldn't choose anyone not up to the job.</p><p>'Do you plan to continue with the five subjects you chose in sixth year?' Professor McGonagall asks, holding a quill in one hand and looking expectantly at Harry.</p><p>'Yes,' he confirms. 'Potions, Charms, Transfiguration, Defence and Herbology,' he lists off as McGonagall writes them down in neat cursive bordering on calligraphy.</p><p>Headmistress McGonagall gives a quick nod of approval. 'Any thoughts towards potential careers after graduation?' she asks, both curious and encouraging.</p><p>Harry makes a face. 'Not really.' He doesn't want to think about career plans right now - even though he knows he should. He wants a chance to just... <em>be</em>, without worrying about the future.</p><p>McGonagall purses her lips, lightly disapproving but not about to lecture him. 'Well, you have a bit of time to consider your options and decide,' she says cautiously, 'although I seriously recommend that you give this some careful and extensive thought, Mr Potter.'</p><p>Harry nods, already dreading having to decide.</p><p>'You are no doubt aware that Minister Shacklebolt has extended unconditional offers to both yourself and many of your classmates for places in Auror training?' Professor McGonagall asks after a beat of silence.</p><p>'Yeah,' Harry says flatly. His stomach churns.</p><p>McGonagall eyes him critically before she decides to let it go, much to Harry's relief. 'Very well,' she says crisply, making one final note on her scroll of parchment before she swiftly rolls it up and stacks it on top of the many other scrolls on her desk. 'Have a good evening, Mr Potter,' she says kindly, a smile breaking across her wrinkled face and warming her dark eyes. 'And do take another biscuit.'</p><p>Harry takes the biscuit and leaves, smiling as he does.</p><p>• • • • • •</p><p>For just a second, Harry stands outside Headmistress McGonagall's office and considers going back in. He considers telling her about the magic he, Ron and Hermione had practiced over the summer when nobody else was looking, the secrets they've kept from everyone else, the illegal transformation they've all mastered. He thinks about Hermione's insistence that they tell someone, Ron's argument that they'll be arrested or forced to register, Harry's own fear that if the wizarding world knew, they'd go into a frenzy.</p><p>He thinks of a small, scraggly bird; a tiny little chick with grey, fluffy feathers and a minuscule beak. He remembers Hermione whispering, '<em>Oh, god</em>...' and Ron's confusion.</p><p>He remembers thinking that he's already special - he doesn't need to be famous for even <em>more</em> magical miracles. He doesn't need even more attention or supposed glory.</p><p>So Harry glances at Professor McGonagall's door one final time and then walks away, secrets still tucked behind his lips.</p><p>• • • • • •</p><p>Expecting his many suitors to wait until the twenty third of September to begin pelting him with letters was, in hindsight, a mistake.</p><p>The morning after the announcement, Harry sits down to breakfast with Neville, Ron and Hermione with no particular plans for the day. He'd been asked to help prepare Gryffindor Tower for the arrival of new students in less than a week and had agreed readily, but beyond that he is anticipating a calm, quiet day.</p><p>A calm, quiet day he does not get.</p><p>The first letter is innocuous; Harry will give it that much. He gets mail occasionally, along with the newspaper and infrequent correspondence with wartime allies (namely Kingsley), so it is not particularly significant when a barn owl swoops down and lands beside his plate. Harry unties the letter nonchalantly, expecting nothing more than another gushing letter from a fan or offer to be the face of a product for some wizarding business. Maybe they're even pestering him about a book deal again.</p><p>Instead what Harry unravels is:</p><p>
  <em>Dear Mr Potter,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I write to you to express both my admiration and affection towards you; you have proven to be a remarkable man and talented wizard. It is with much hope and tenderness that I extend this offer of amity and perhaps even something more, should you be so willing. I recognise that I have written to you weeks ahead of the official commencement of the Eternal Entwining Festival, but I confess that I simply could not bear to wait any longer, and that my heart's desires simply had to be expressed.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I await your reply with ambitious warmth in my loving heart,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Yours,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Miss Isabella Shacklebolt</em>
</p><p>Harry stares at the letter.</p><p>'What's it say?' Ron asks when Harry continues to gape, breakfast forgotten.</p><p>Harry hands the letter over without speaking. He doesn't think he has words worth speaking at the moment. Not when his head is spinning.</p><p>Ron chokes on his eggs when he starts reading, eyes going wide as he realises that the first of Harry's courtship letters has already arrived. Within seconds, Ron is hooting, shaking with laughter as he holds the letter aloft like a trophy.</p><p>'<em>My loving heart!</em>' Ron crows before he dissolves into guffaws that inevitably draw the attention of the surrounding students. Within seconds, the Weasley twins appear on either side of Ron, George plucking the letter from Ron's grasp and leaning towards Fred as they both scan over it, heads almost pressed together.</p><p>Soon the twins are snorting with laughter too. Harry doesn't know whether to join them or drop his head into his hands and die.</p><p>'Oi, Lee! Come read this!' George calls out, and Lee Jordan quickly materialises beside the twins, followed by several of his friends, all of whom had volunteered to rebuild Hogwarts.</p><p>In no time at all, half the Gryffindor table has read the letter, and it is quickly becoming the morning entertainment when someone shouts, 'Hey, isn't that the Minister's niece?'</p><p>Things only get worse from there.</p><p>Word spreads that Harry has received a letter of friendship (and what is also clearly a not-so-subtle declaration of intent) and just like that, the floodgates open. People seem to take the news as permission to also send their letters early, weeks before they were supposed to; by the next day, Harry has been handed or owled five more letters, all from fellow students. Thankfully, they are all fairly tame, but nonetheless Harry is flustered and embarrassed and <em>he doesn't know what to do</em>.</p><p>It's almost as bad as the time Lockhart had decided to introduce Valentine's Day to Hogwarts, poems, roses and all.</p><p>It takes a couple of days for word to spread beyond the walls of Hogwarts that somebody has sneakily kickstarted the Festival early, but once the outside world is aware of the cheating going on by suitors after Harry James Potter, all bets are off.</p><p>The second day after the letter from Isabella - who, it turns out, actually <em>is</em> Kingsley's niece, and who had probably heard about the Festival from her uncle before it was announced and acted accordingly - a swarm of owls descend upon Harry at breakfast. He is not at all prepared for the fourteen birds all hooting and flapping at each other, fighting to deliver their letter first and attempting to beat back the competition.</p><p>The quarrelling parliament of owls causes chaos at the Gryffindor table as the large birds upend plates, bowls and goblets without care, sending food flying and scratching students who don't manage to scramble out of their way in time. Harry tries, valiantly, to untie some of the letters in the hopes of sending some of the birds away and calming the frenzy, but his attempts only infuriate the other owls and sends them into a righteous fury that their letters aren't being opened first.</p><p>Only Professor McGonagall's intervention saves them, at which point the entire Hall is laughing at them.</p><p>Harry sighs and nurses his scratched hands.</p><p>The last week before classes start back continues in the same way it began: every morning Harry is pelted with anywhere between five to fifteen owls, all from women looking to marry him (and his money). In a surprising yet fortunate twist, Harry isn't the only one to be accosted by offers of friendship and declarations of intent. Ron gets six letters and Hermione eleven; Neville receives twenty two. When their surprise is evident at his popularity, Neville gives the table a small, bashful smile, shrugs, blushes faintly and says, 'I'm the Heir to the House of Longbottom.'</p><p>'Don't sell yourself short there, Nev!' Fred disagrees, wagging a finger at the pink-faced boy surrounded by a small pile of letters.</p><p>'You also whopped the head off a great big bloody snake!' George adds cheerfully.</p><p>'<em>And</em> ran the Resistance at Hogwarts,' Ginny says firmly.</p><p>'That's got to be worth a few points with the ladies!' Fred declares cheekily, giving Neville a big wink.</p><p>Neville blushes harder but doesn't disagree.</p><p>It stops being funny the next day, when someone tries to send Hermione a letter dowsed in a love potion. The dreamy, vacant expression that suddenly overtakes Hermione's face when she opens the envelope is horrifying, and it's only the quick thinking of Ron that saves her when he realises what has happened; he torches the parchment with extreme prejudice and drags her to Madam Pomfrey, ignoring her protests.</p><p>They all take the letters a lot more seriously after that, and Pomfrey gives the four of them a small vial of the antidote to carry with them at all times.</p><p>Harry has nightmares that night about Ron seizing on the floor, a bottle of poisoned wine spilling blood-red around him as Harry stands frozen, unable to move, to cry out, to help.</p><p>When he wakes the next morning he has barely slept, his head is pounding and he's in a terrible mood. He waves Ron and Neville on ahead, promising to follow them down to breakfast in fifteen minutes. He realises his mistake when he finally emerges from Gryffindor Tower and is soon trailed by a gaggle of giggling girls; without Ron, Neville or Hermione to act as a buffer between them Harry is defenceless against the stares, titters and nervous attempts to approach him with another ruddy letter.</p><p>On another day, Harry wouldn't have been too bothered. The courting is irritating but hardly the worst thing he's ever endured; he can handle it. But his head is still splitting, he's sleep-deprived and hungry and his bad mood is only getting worse. By the time he reaches the Entrance Hall and chases off his growing group of followers, Harry is scowling and wishing he'd just stayed in bed.</p><p>Which is, of course, when things get worse.</p><p>He's missed the morning mail, and for a moment he's glad, until owls begin swooping through the open doors of the Great Hall and streaking towards him, hooting and screeching indignantly that they have been made to wait so long. They descend upon Harry, half-determined, half-rabid, and begin fighting for his attention.</p><p>Harry staggers backwards when an owl lands on each of his shoulders; another tries to land on his head before it is barrelled into by a vicious eagle, tugging and ripping out some of Harry's hair in the process. He yelps, because it bloody <em>hurts</em>, and wants to scream in anger when he hears someone behind him sniggering.</p><p>Trying to shoo the owls away achieves nothing, and when Harry attempts to untie the letter attached to the owl on his left shoulder, he is predictably mobbed by vengeful birds insulted that they have not been chosen first. Harry doesn't know if their owners ordered the birds to ensure their letters were received before the others, but he's beginning to suspect that they must've done <em>something</em> when a raven pecks at his hand and claws his wrists in revenge for ignoring the parchment scroll tied round its ankle.</p><p>When a tawny owl rips its talons into the back of Harry's hand to prevent him from reaching for another owl, Harry loses the last of his very limited patience.</p><p>A pulse of defensive magic shoots out from his chest, wordless and wandless as Harry's magic responds to his frustration and injuries. The birds around and on Harry are sent flying up into the air, disturbed and insulted but not harmed as Harry forces them away from him. One retaliates by shitting on him, and Harry swears as he feels the wet <em>splat</em> running down the back of his jumper. Tugging off his ruined clothing, Harry glares up at the circling birds and reminds himself that Hagrid would be very disappointed in him if he hexed any of the little blighters.</p><p>Apparently fed up with the delay in proceedings, a Eurasian eagle owl drops its letter which lands on the ground in front of Harry. He's determine to ignore it - already thoroughly pissed off and in no mood to put up with whatever crap he's been sent today - when the letter <em>transforms</em>.</p><p>It looks, Harry thinks with horror, like a Howler - except it's bright pink instead of red. The rest is the same, however: the way the letter forms lips and teeth; the way the parchment mouth moves as that of a human would; and the horrible, humiliatingly loud words that the Not-Howler shouts from the tops and depths of its non-existent lungs.</p><p>'<em>Harry</em>,' the Love Howler purrs, the sound echoing around the Entrance Hall and no doubt very much audible to the hundred or so people sitting in the Great Hall, 'I'm all yours if you want me.' The parchment lips stretch, showing off creamy teeth and what the writer probably imagined was a seductive smirk. It is repulsive. 'My <em>bed</em> is all yours, too, <em>darling</em>, if you want... we could get to know each other in it, Harry...'</p><p>The Love Howler floats closer, pursing its lips before grinning again. 'Would you like that, Harry? Would you like me to spread my legs for you? I think you'd fit so nicely between them, and you'd fit even better in my-'</p><p>Harry shoots a fireball at it.</p><p>Instead of exploding or disappearing like a respectable parchment prostitute would, the Love Howler emits an enraged screech, spitting sparks and pulsing with amber flames as it flies towards Harry, growing in size and opening its mouth wide as if it intends to eat him alive.</p><p>The Shield Charm Harry casts does nothing to stop the burning Howler; apparently the Charm is only capable of stopping actual spells, not mad, fiery letters of doom. The Stunner Harry throws next also does nothing, and before he can try anything else it is too late: the flaming Howler opens wide and then <em>bites</em>, clamping down hard on Harry's shoulder. He cries out, almost dropping his wand as pain radiates down his arm, and in a moment of righteous rage Harry blasts the letter backwards with a vicious <em>Depulso</em> before freezing it with a silent <em>Glacius</em>.</p><p>A large chunk of ice drops to the stone floor of the Entrance Hall with a resounding <em>thunk</em>. Fractures spread across it, and a moment later the entire thing cracks and breaks apart.</p><p>Harry glares at the remains of the Howler, breathing hard. Still fuming, he picks up his soiled jumper, which he'd dropped, and casts <em>Episkey</em> to heal the worst of his injury. The bite didn't break skin, but it did singe his shirt and leave bright red marks behind. When the healing spell doesn't achieve much, Harry tries <em>Ferula</em> instead; thin white bandages wrap around his upper arm and shoulder, and once the charm takes full effect a soothing numbness spreads throughout the affected area. Harry slumps in relief as the aching pain from the bite vanishes, leaving only a cool, tingly feeling behind.</p><p>Someone clears their throat.</p><p>Harry turns to see a small audience staring at him from the far end of the Entrance Hall. His irritation spikes when he realises that not a single one of them attempted to help him.</p><p>A woman steps forwards. She's around twenty five, with silky dark hair in a sleek cut that ends just above her shoulders and a relatively tall, slim frame. She is, Harry notes, rather hot - if a little intimidating. And she's staring right at him.</p><p>On another day he might be flattered. Today he's just pissed off.</p><p>'Yes?' Harry bites out, in no mood to be courteous when he'd been left alone to fend off a small army of petty, <em>clawed</em> birds and an appallingly dirty, flaming Howler.</p><p>'What an impressive display,' the woman murmurs, slinking closer to Harry and eyeing him up and down in the most blatant way possible. Harry's face burns. He's suddenly aware of his messy hair, torn t-shirt and ragged jeans - but frankly, he can't find the will to care. He'd have dressed up if the event was worth it - and in blunt honesty, meeting this woman is <em>not worth it</em>.</p><p>Harry has more important things to get to. Like breakfast.</p><p>The unfamiliar witch slinks closer, twirling her wand in one hand (<em>is that supposed to be seductive? Because it's only reminding Harry that she was perfectly capable of helping him and </em><b><em>didn't</em></b>) and raking her eyes over him again. 'You're so... powerful,' she continues, in the worst come-on Harry has ever witnessed. 'The war must have taught you so much. Made you so... <em>strong</em>.'</p><p>She might as well have set Harry on fire with how well her attempt at flirtation goes.</p><p>'The <em>war</em>,' Harry snaps, 'ruined my fucking life.'</p><p>He turns away sharply before he says anything else, not caring in the slightest that he's being incredibly rude (<em>but so is she!</em> His brain yells), stalking away from the crowd of wide-eyed onlookers.</p><p>Something jabs into his back, jarring against the curved bones of his spine, and Harry whirls around.</p><p>The woman's wand is out and pointing at him, and for a terrifying second every defensive instinct ingrained into Harry's soul rears to life, casting a wordless shield before he can even think and pushing a nasty hex to the tip of his tongue. But then he realises that he was poked by the pointy end of an origami crane hovering in front of him made of parchment covered in looping, cursive ink. Another letter.</p><p>For a moment Harry is so astonished and appalled by the woman's cheek that he does nothing but blink.</p><p>'I think you'll find-' the woman begins in a sultry tone that somehow manages to sound condescending, and then Harry has had enough.</p><p>He loses the very last of his patience, feeling it snap clean in two inside his chest as his bad mood sours even further. In a moment of overwhelming anger, Harry loses his temper rather spectacularly and sends a wave of roaring fire from the end of his wand straight at the defenceless origami crane. It is burned to a crisp and reduced to ashes in half a second, flamed away to nothing as if it were never there.</p><p>'No, I <em>won't</em> find,' Harry snaps back, before he turns on his heel and stomps away.</p><p>When someone tries to float a letter towards him from inside the Hall, he flicks it away and incinerates it without a second thought.</p><p>His day is officially ruined, and it has barely even started.</p><p>Harry storms into the Great Hall like an enraged Erumpent. When a cloud of letters tries to swarm him, he loses it.</p><p>'STOP SENDING ME BLOODY LOVE LETTERS!' he bellows, silencing every conversation taking place with a single sentence. It's almost impressive, except he's pissed off, so he can't pat himself on the back. 'I'M GAY!'</p><p>And with that he stomps back out and slams the doors shut behind him, blocking the seventeen letters that try to follow him.</p><p>His yelled announcement is not strictly true - he's attracted to both genders rather than just one - but Harry is fed up with being accosted at every turn and being the incorrect sexuality will make him effectively ineligible for the slew of desperate girls chasing after him. Now, nobody can bother him. It's an excellent plan.</p><p>• • • • • •</p><p>It's not an excellent plan.</p><p>The next morning, news of Harry's apparent gayness is a screaming headline on the front page of the Daily Prophet <em>and</em> Witch Weekly. Witch Weekly is devastated; the Daily Prophet can't decide whether it's a tragedy or a pack of lies.</p><p>To further compound the disaster of how badly Harry didn't think this through, within twenty four hours of Harry's announcement he has been pelted by no less than twenty declarations of intent from men ranging from the ages of seventeen to seventy, all desperately fighting for his hand.</p><p>One of the men, Harry discovers with no small amount of horror, is <em>already married to his second wife</em>, but is still attempting to win Harry over with promises of gold and big fancy houses. Whatever else he suggests is lost forever when Harry sets the letter alight and stomps on it.</p><p>'But he's <em>married</em>,' Harry complains loudly in the common room that night, surrounded by sympathetic and smirking friends. He hates them all. 'He's clearly straight! He can't court me, he's the wrong sexuality! That's supposed to exclude him!'</p><p>'Harry, darling,' George says slowly from where he's leaning against Fred with his arms crossed and a wicked grin plastered across his face. 'He doesn't care if you're neutered, transvestite or an amorphous, genderless blob.'</p><p>'...What?'</p><p>'He really couldn't care less about you or your sexuality,' Fred explains bluntly. 'All he's interested in is your fame, your money and the glory and honour you'll bring to his family name. Oh, and that you're the sole heir to not one, but <em>two</em> Ancient <em>and</em> Noble Houses.'</p><p>Harry stares blankly at them. 'You mean I'm still going to get letters, even though they're straight, because they just want my money,' he says bleakly.</p><p>'Yes,' George and Fred confirm cheerily. 'Nice try, mate, but it's going to take a lot more than an inconvenient, pesky sexuality to get you out of this clusterfuck.'</p><p>'Language,' Hermione says automatically, but she looks just as disturbed as Harry. 'This is so morally corrupt,' she adds after a moment.</p><p>'The Ministry was involved,' George says by way of explanation.</p><p>'Why are you surprised?' Fred tacks on.</p><p>Harry sighs loudly.</p><p>• • • • • •</p><p>The Saturday before classes are due to start, someone sends Harry moving photographs of themself masturbating.</p><p>Harry's loud and emphatic 'WHAT THE <em>FUCK</em>!' is heard by the entire Great Hall, as is Professor McGonagall's fierce chastisement and removal of twenty House points as she storms towards him.</p><p>It's almost revenge to shove the photos in her face by way of explanation and watch her reaction.</p><p>McGonagall's face does something strange and fascinating: it goes white, paling so fast she's at risk of fainting, before her entire expression morphs from shocked horror straight into a spectacular, raging, <em>flaming</em> fury.</p><p>'Who sent you this?' She <em>snarls</em>, and it is so glorious that Harry wishes he had a magical camera of his own just to capture the moment.</p><p>In the topmost photograph, a slightly chubby, naked, thirty-something year old man enthusiastically gyrates, swivels his hips and tugs frantically on his swelling red cock. He's balding, sweaty and silently panting, and if Professor McGonagall's death glare is anything to go by, soon to be dead.</p><p>Harry plucks the letter that had come with the photographs from the table and skips to the bottom of the parchment, not bothering to read the extremely sexual contents. 'Mister Gregorian P. Otterly,' he reads aloud, crinkling his nose and scrunching his face in disgust as he catches sight of the phrase "<em>I will pound you morning to night whilst you moan my name</em>" in amongst the other filth of the letter.</p><p>Suffice to say, McGonagall retracts her House point removal - essentially approving of Harry's loud cursing, much to his amusement - and sweeps away to write several violently angry letters to one Gregorian Otterly, who if he has any sense will soon be fleeing the country.</p><p>It's not the only letter with pornographic contents, but thankfully Otterly is the only one to send wizarding nudes. There is, however, a much creepier letter that arrives with the morning post on Sunday, the day before classes start back, and Harry nearly loses his breakfast over it.</p><p>The entire thing is written in dark red ink - like blood, Harry can't help but think, cold creeping up his spine - and is filled with horrifyingly graphic details about what exactly the anonymous letter writer wants to do to Harry's body - without his permission, he can't help but notice. It's the sort of thing he should have stopped reading the second he'd started, but he can't help his eyes from catching on and then staring at one particular sentence, written in bold.</p><p>
  <em>When I'm finished with you, you won't even be able to scream.</em>
</p><p>As Harry reads over descriptions of how he'll be kidnapped, bound with ropes, tied up like some sort of sex slave, and then subjected to a range of gruesome sex acts including forceful penetration without preparation or lube, he feels slow horror settling chilling and heavy in his stomach. When he reaches the paragraph about bloodletting, Harry's mind flashes back to fourth year and Voldemort and Pettigrew and being tied to a gravestone and the knife and <em>Cedric</em> -</p><p>'Harry!'</p><p>All of the dishes and cutlery in front of Harry are rattling. One of the glasses vibrates so much it shatters, sending little bits of glass skittering everywhere, reflecting light and scattering it almost as randomly as Harry's wild thoughts.</p><p>Hermione's concerned face stares back at him, her mouth turned down and eyebrows puckered up in worry, cataloguing every twitch and tremor of Harry's face and body. He feels tense, suddenly, like he's been wound up and he's a second away from shattering like the glass, spilling everything everywhere and spinning completely out of control -</p><p>Harry drops the letter.</p><p>'Mr Potter?' Professor McGonagall's voice asks sharply from somewhere to his left, but he doesn't even glance at her as he surges to his feet. Harry is suddenly, painfully aware of the stares of the entire Hall fixed, fascinated, upon him, as if he is nothing more than a joke. A show. A bit of live theatre to entertain them all and provide good gossip until the next story or scandal comes along.</p><p>As if he <em>belongs</em> to them. As if he isn't a person.</p><p>
  <em>As if they can just decide to take his body and tie it up and cut it whatever way they like, and it won't matter whether he says yes or no, because they don't need his permission, they just need what they want, and they are going to take it even if he resists. Even if they hurt him. Even if he screams.</em>
</p><p><em>Maybe they would do it that way because they</em> <b><em>want</em></b><em> him to scream. They want him to be afraid.</em></p><p>Harry is done with being afraid.</p><p>• • • • • •</p><p>Harry expects Hermione and Ron or even McGonagall to find him. Instead it is the last person he expects that rips open the door leading to the Astronomy Tower and rapidly ascends the staircase to the platform, breath heaving in their straining lungs. When Snape appears like a phantom from a nightmare - just like he had a year and a half ago in this same Tower - Harry freezes up in his position sat hunched on the floor with his back to the cold stone wall, and stares at his professor in mute shock.</p><p>Snape is clearly out of breath from his journey up to the Tower - and perhaps all over the castle, if he hadn't known where Harry had hidden himself away - and Harry braces himself for the angry lecture he's going to receive the moment Snape has gotten his breath back. After all, he can't imagine that Snape was pleased about having to scour the castle looking for his least favourite student, and especially not when he found Harry <em>here</em> of all places, in the Tower where -</p><p>But Snape doesn't do what Harry expects.</p><p>Once Snape has regained control of his wheezing, strained inhales and exhales, he draws himself up and leans less heavily on his thin black cane. Harry stares at it, partially because he doesn't want to look the man in the face whilst he yells at Harry, and partially because he still doesn't understand why Snape needs aid walking in the first place.</p><p>Snape's fingers tighten around the cane's plain handle, and it abruptly, belatedly occurs to Harry that the man probably doesn't appreciate Harry's blatant staring at evidence of... well, Harry's not quite sure what it's evidence of - some sort of injury? - but it is nevertheless an obvious weakness, so Harry averts his eyes.</p><p>Snape clears his throat. Harry's shoulders tighten.</p><p>'Headmistress McGonagall has contacted the Board of Governors, the Minister and the DMLE,' Snape says in a flat, croaking voice. Harry blinks. Is this what Snape sounds like when he's... <em>calm</em>? It's something of a revelation to witness. 'Additional mail wards will be erected around Hogwarts to prevent potentially harmful letters from reaching any of the castle's inhabitants.'</p><p>Harry closes his eyes, tips his head back against the cold stone and breathes.</p><p>'Thanks,' he says after a moment, opening his eyes and glancing at Snape before looking away. This open communication between them feels delicate and strange, and Harry is trying desperately not to break it. He doesn't want to fight anymore. He just wants some bloody peace and quiet.</p><p>Harry waits for the inevitable question about why he's hiding up in the Astronomy Tower, of all places, and why he lost control of his magic and shattered a glass. Perhaps he'll even get detention or lose House points for risking the safety of fellow students.</p><p>But none of that comes. Instead, Snape leans on his cane and says nothing, staring at Harry with a vaguely irritated expression, as if he's impatient but determined to wait this out. Harry doesn't have the faintest idea why. He still feels rattled, although his cold, clammy fear has now mostly washed away to be replaced by embarrassment and shame.</p><p>It is humiliating enough to have lost control in front of the entire school - over a harmless <em>letter,</em> no less - but to also have Snape here, witnessing the aftermath of his disproportional panic and stress, is beyond mortifying.</p><p>Harry surges to his feet, brushing at his robes and determinedly not looking Snape in the eye. He feels his cheeks heat with self-conscious discomfort, but Snape says nothing, and Harry can't decide whether he's grateful or humiliated.</p><p>Clamping his hands around his body in a futile attempt to chase away the chill in the air now clinging to his body, Harry wonders whether he is supposed to wait for Snape to begin his reprimand or whether he can get away with simply hurrying past the man and escaping down the stairs back into the castle's comfort and warmth. Uncertainty is what keeps Harry standing there awkwardly, waiting for someone else to make a move - namely Snape, although he wouldn't mind a rescue from literally anyone else right now - and several seconds after Harry has scrambled to his feet and stood there shivering, Snape finally does something.</p><p>It is also not what Harry expects.</p><p>The rebuke doesn't come; instead, Harry hears a quiet mutter of, '<em>Idiot boy</em>,' and then heat is washing over him, spiralling down his spine and slipping over his skin like a silk cloak. His numb red hands are suddenly gloved in warmth, and Harry jumps in surprise as his entire body is suddenly protected from the exposed chill of the windy Tower - and not only that, but is warmed by magic.</p><p><em>Snape's</em> magic.</p><p>Harry stares at his least favourite professor in shock. ...But Snape <em>isn't</em> his least favourite professor, is he? Yes, Harry has almost always hated the man - and been hated in return - but there is an undeniable difference between the acerbity of Snape and the callous cruelty of the Carrows. Snape isn't <em>Umbridge</em>.</p><p>The realisation strikes Harry without warning, catching him off guard and leaving him fumbling. Because really, what has Snape ever done to him that's been truly <em>evil</em>? There've been a lot of spiteful words hissed at each other over the years, but as Harry casts his mind back, he realises that all of the worst crimes he has ever lain at Snape's feet - murdering Dumbledore, being a Death Eater, helping Voldemort, threatening Quirrell - were either false accusations or done in the aid of the Light.</p><p>That's... unsettling. And makes Harry feel like a complete arse for a lot of the things he's said and thought about the man over the years.</p><p>Because he was wrong, Harry realises abruptly. About all of the worst things, he was wrong.</p><p>Snape was never a cold-blooded killer like MacNair; he doesn't treasure torture like Bellatrix. He's just been... a man. A petty, prejudiced, bitter, mean-mouthed man... but still a man. Not the monster Harry has spent far too long thinking of him as.</p><p>Snape is like Malfoy, Harry thinks. Both are bullies and ill-natured and great big bloody gits at times... but Harry has already forgiven one of them. He'd even spoken at Draco Malfoy's trial, and at his mother's (although he'd refused to speak in defence of Lucius. <em>That</em> man got what he deserved). If Harry can find some sort of neutral ground with his school rival, he thinks he can attempt to bury the hatchet - and dagger, and poison, and loaded crossbow - with Snape.</p><p>Polite pleasantries. Harry can do that. Yes. Of course. No problem at all.</p><p>...How exactly does one offer a hand of civil friendship and forgiveness to a sworn enemy?</p><p><em>Crap</em>.</p><p>'Thanks,' Harry blurts, and watches as Snape rolls his eyes and turns away, gesturing silently for Harry to follow with a quick, sharp flick of his hand.</p><p>Struggling to decide what to say - or whether to say anything at all - Harry follows Snape back down the stairs and out of the Tower, staring at the back of Snape's head the entire time. It's not until they're underneath the wooden platform and about to leave the Tower when Harry realises that Snape's posture is confident and sure. Being back in the Astronomy Tower, the place where Dumbledore had died and protected Harry one final time, is a strange mix of comforting and disturbing. It's a place to escape from everyone else, but it's also a place crawling with old, haunting memories and nightmares.</p><p>Snape shows no such hesitation or uneasiness. In fact, he doesn't seem bothered by their location at all, striding from the Tower and back into the main corridors of the castle as gracefully as one can whilst relying on a cane. Despite everything that once happened in that Tower, Snape walks as he would in any other place, and neither his voice nor face show any signs of discomfort.</p><p>Harry envies his composure, even as he admires it.</p><p><em>Snape isn't afraid</em>, he thinks, and wants to be like that, too. Wants to be fearless. Because he's so tired of fear.</p><p>Harry never thought he'd see the day where he wanted to be like <em>Severus Snape</em>, but it, too, has come. There's not much point in being surprised; he'll just have to accept this, like he does everything else.</p><p>There are certainly worse things he could be.</p><p>• • • • • •</p><p>'McGonagall and Snape saw the letter,' Ron tells him later that night, under the cover of darkness in their half-empty dorm. Seamus hadn't come back after the war. Neither had Dean. Their only company is the soft, sleepy breathing of Neville.</p><p>'Oh,' Harry says woodenly.</p><p>'They were both furious,' Ron adds, giving Harry a cautious, concerned look. 'I thought Snape was going to set it on fire for a moment.'</p><p>Harry nods, and then they both clamber under their blankets and don't say anything else.</p><p>They never speak about it again, and Harry is pathetically grateful.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>you know how every once in a while, a video of Billie Eilish getting grabbed or Shawn Mendes getting mobbed goes viral? Or some creep breaks into Taylor Swift's house and sleeps in her bed? </p><p>Yeah, well there's no way you can tell me that sort of shit wouldn't also happen in the wizarding world. That's kind of what inspired this chapter. </p><p>Sorry, Harry...!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Danger of Assumptions</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A/N: some of the Potions, ingredients and knowledge mentioned in this chapter are canon; some are completely invented.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry had assumed, once, that he knows everything there is to know about Severus Snape. He has seen the man's memories, after all; has crawled around inside his head and witnessed the worst of him. What more could there be than that?</p><p>A lot, as it turns out.</p><p>For Snape isn't fixed in place; he is no dusty relic forgotten in a museum. Snape is constant but changing, forever in flux just like every other person alive and living. The man is dynamic, just like the Potions he makes, and has no predetermined or stable equilibrium. Snape can go anywhere, be anything, just like anyone else can, and it's a lesson Harry learns suddenly and painfully in his first Potions lesson of the year.</p><p>Monday the first of September is chilly but bright, but that chilliness becomes a creeping cold as Harry, Ron and Hermione descend into the dungeons. By the time they have reached the Potions classroom, Ron is muttering about regretting his decision to continue with his Potions NEWT.</p><p>'You're only doing five NEWTs,' Hermione reminds him with a huff, hoisting her over-stuffed bag further up her shoulder. 'Unless you want to switch to Care of Magical Creatures, you can't drop Potions. You can't do anything else, and five NEWTs is the minimum.'</p><p>Ron scowls but doesn't disagree. Harry glances between his two best friends hesitantly. The pair have hit another rocky stage in their relationship and have decided to "take a break". The resultant sniping at each other has been awkward if familiar - honestly, Harry can't really tell the different between this and their normal way of interacting.</p><p>Their relationship is weird.</p><p>Any further speculation on the tense romance straining between Ron and Hermione is cut off when they enter the Potions classroom. In an unexpected twist, Snape is already sitting behind his desk at the front of the room. Having expected the usual dramatic entrance and insulting speech, Harry is surprised but not disappointed by the man's presence. He certainly won't miss the name-calling and unfair point deductions.</p><p>Deciding it would be wise to keep all commentary to himself, in his head where Snape definitely can't overhear it, Harry takes a seat at the back of the classroom and smiles at Hermione when she drops into the seat beside him.</p><p>Ron takes a seat at the desk on the other side of Harry, with only the aisle between them. A Ravenclaw joins Ron moments later, but neither strikes up a conversation. Not whilst Snape is sitting at the front of the classroom, watching them all silently.</p><p>There are no instructions written on the board, and Harry wonders whether he should begin setting up his cauldron or not. He glances around the room; every other student is waiting quietly for Snape to speak.</p><p>The class is a combination of returning eighth years and advancing seventh years. To make matters even more confusing, half of the seventh years have chosen to repeat sixth year, as have three eighth years, resulting in a confusing amalgamation of the upper years.</p><p>Ginny had chosen to repeat sixth year, since her status as a Gryffindor blood traitor and ex-girlfriend of the Chosen One had made her a prime target for the Carrows during their reign of terror. She'd been one of the first forced into hiding in the Room of Requirement, and whilst she had still fought in the Resistance, her classwork had suffered badly as a result. Not wanting to risk her NEWTs, Ginny had remained in the year below.</p><p>Harry is almost guiltily relieved; he's not sure how he'd feel if his ex started appearing in all of his classes. They're still on speaking terms, if rather stilted ones, but it's the sort of confrontation Harry would rather just avoid.</p><p>The current Potions class of fifteen students is heavily skewed towards Ravenclaw and Slytherin, since most of the advancing seventh years are in those two Houses, whilst the majority of the seventh years repeating sixth year are Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. The Carrows had not been fair, and it shows in the imbalance of those being forced to repeat.</p><p>But it's not the Ravenclaws and Slytherins' fault, Harry reminds himself. The only people to blame are the Carrows and Voldemort. Everyone else was a victim, even if in different ways. In the end, they'd all been afraid.</p><p>Harry suspects that he's not the only one that's fed up with being afraid.</p><p>'There will be no magic cast in this classroom,' Snape says suddenly, his voice soft and cracked. Against his will, Harry's eyes are dragged to the scar tissue hanging thick and silvery white around Snape's neck. <em>'Is that understood?'</em></p><p>'Yes, sir,' the class murmurs in response.</p><p>'Good,' Snape says, and then that's it. No insults, no sneering, no glaring at Harry and the other Gryffindors. Snape merely stands up, leaning on his ever-present black cane, and points to the lone rack perched in the middle of his otherwise empty desk at the front of the classroom.</p><p>'You have an hour to identify the contents of your vial,' Snape instructs them quietly. 'One each. <em>No</em> spell casting of any kind.'</p><p>Harry glances at Hermione, who looks pleasantly surprised. She gives Harry a hopeful little smile and then joins the queue to pick up a vial.</p><p>Once Harry has gotten a vial of his own, he retakes his seat and simply stares at it for a moment. The liquid inside is clear, with no bubbling or cloudiness of any kind. When Harry cautiously removes the glass stopper and sniffs at the vial, there is no aroma given off and the liquid doesn't react when exposed to the air.</p><p>Harry stares at his vial. It looks suspiciously like it contains water.</p><p>Is Snape trying to trick them? Test them in some way? Why? How? And how is Harry supposed to prove that his vial contains water, anyway? They've never had a class like this before - usually they just brew a potion or write essays about the properties of certain ingredients. He certainly doesn't remember the lesson on identifying unknown liquids.</p><p>Harry carefully stoppers his vial and sets it down on his desk, staring at it in confusion. When he glances around the room, he sees that several of his classmates look equally perplexed; some are attempting to carry out tests on their sample with their Potions equipment, but just as many are sitting in silence and frowning.</p><p>Hermione in particular is frowning very hard.</p><p>Harry rummages around in his bag and pulls out his copy of <em>Advanced Potion Making</em> for lack of any better ideas. Perhaps the textbook will contain a handy chapter on how to identify unknown substances, but Harry rather doubts it. Snape would never make things that easy.</p><p>Ten minutes of skim-reading his textbook gives Harry nothing more than a paragraph about how to tell the difference between correctly and incorrectly brewed potions. It's not what he needs, since for all intents and purposes the "potion" has been brewed correctly.</p><p>The liquid is colourless and odourless. Harry is almost certain it's water. The only thing stopping him from knocking it back to see if it's tasteless too is the fact that it could very well be Veritaserum. Harry has no intention of dosing himself with a truth serum unless he has the antidote sitting next to him.</p><p>Plus, Harry wouldn't put it past Snape to have invented a colourless, odourless poison.</p><p>Harry's mind snags on that particular thought. He glances back down at his vial. The liquid could be poison. But it could also be venom. Saliva. Tears. <em>Anything</em>.</p><p>...Harry's <em>definitely</em> not knocking it back.</p><p>There must be some way to identify potions. A spell seems the most obvious solution, except Snape has just forbidden them from so much as touching their wands, so that's out. Perhaps if he had a list of all colourless potions, Harry could use process of elimination, but he doesn't even know that it <em>is</em> a potion. It could be water, or a biological material, or a figment of his bloody imagination. If Harry has learned one thing from the war, it's that he can't make assumptions. Assumptions are stupid and dangerous and get people killed.</p><p>So he doesn't knock the liquid back, assuming it's water, and he doesn't try to list off all colourless potions, assuming it's even a potion. He does have to assume that it exists, since he's not in the mood for an existential crisis quite yet, but Harry thinks that's probably the one assumption he's allowed to make.</p><p>So how does he prove what the liquid is?</p><p>Using a test subject and observing any reactions or results is another obvious but unavailable method, since Harry himself is the only test subject he has, and he's not willing to find out whether the vial contains a magical poison or acid the hard way. He could try testing it on plants, but he doesn't have any to hand and it would take much longer than the hour he has to wait for the liquid to be taken up by the plant's roots and begin having an effect.</p><p>Harry flips through the textbook again, hoping for the answer to magically jump out at him. It doesn't, of course, but something else does.</p><p>
  <em>Later in the brewing process, the Wiggenweld Potion must be kept at a constant warm temperature in between phases of heating to prevent components of the Flobberworm mucus from precipitating out of solution. The addition of boom berry juice will help to keep these components dissolved, but care must nonetheless be taken to ensure a concentrated and effective potion is produced.</em>
</p><p>Harry stares at the passage. His mind tumbles back to third year, when they'd first been introduced to the potion... or had it been first year? It's difficult to accurately recall anything from so far back, but Harry is pretty sure that he didn't keep his potion at a constant temperature, and that it came out somewhat passable. And didn't he write an essay on the properties of Flobberworm mucus at some point in junior school?</p><p>Harry scratches the side of his head absently as he rereads the passage. An idea is beginning to trickle through his brain, but he doesn't have the faintest clue as to whether or not it'll work.</p><p>Well. He might as well try.</p><p>Harry sets up his cauldron and carefully lights the burner underneath it with a match and splint - he's missing his wand more with every passing second - before he realises that no, this won't do at all. Turning off the burner, he quickly removes the cauldron and then glances around the room. He needs something much smaller, something like...</p><p>There. On top of one of the shelves lining the classroom are a stack of slim ceramic dishes. Harry retrieves one, along with a metal tripod to balance it on, and hurries back to his desk. Many of his classmates are watching him curiously - no doubt hoping for a hint on what to do next - but Harry ignores them in favour of pouring a small volume of the liquid onto the ceramic dish and relighting his burner.</p><p>He waits impatiently for the liquid to heat, glancing at some of his classmates, who are peering into their cauldrons or scowling at the textbook. Hermione seems to be doing something very complicated involving several chopped leaves and a powder of some sort. If anyone is going to figure this out, it's probably her.</p><p>Once the liquid has evaporated from his dish, Harry removes the heat and examines the ceramic carefully without touching it. There is no residue left on the dish, meaning there are no solutes in the solution, or that whatever is dissolved in the "potion" also evaporates.</p><p>It occurs to Harry for the first time that the potion could be a mixture of two or more liquids. No one said that the contents of the vial were <em>a</em> potion. The vial could contain multiple potions. It could contain <em>anything</em>.</p><p>Snape didn't even say that they all got the same thing.</p><p><em>Stop making assumptions</em>, Harry tells himself sternly. He pulls out a scrap of parchment and begins hurriedly scrawling on it, reminding himself of all of the things he cannot assume.</p><p>
  <em>1. Could be mixture of potions</em><br/>
<em>2. Could be poison, biological (tears, saliva etc)</em><br/>
<em>3. Could be water</em><br/>
<em>4. Could be Veritaserum</em><br/>
<em>5. Does not leave behind solid, crystals, residue etc when evaporated</em><br/>
<em>6. Has no visible reaction when heated beyond gas vapour emitted</em><br/>
<em>7. Cannot make any assumptions about it</em>
</p><p>Harry underlines his last point twice before he returns to scrutinising his vial. His next test is to see if anything precipitates out of the liquid when it is cooled, as the Flobberworm mucus does in an incorrectly brewed Wiggenweld Potion, but he doesn't have access to ice and he's forbidden from conjuring any, or even just casting a Cooling Charm.</p><p>Asking Snape for ice is a step Harry isn't quite willing to take just yet, so he resorts to flipping through the textbook in the hopes of stumbling across an "Ice Potion" or something else equally helpful.</p><p>Unfortunately, Harry seems to be ahead of his time with ice potions - or perhaps sensible wizards just <em>use ice</em> - as there is no mention of any sort of chilling or freezing potion in his textbook. When his eyes begin roaming the classroom in search of inspiration, he lands upon one of the many corpses decorating the classroom.</p><p>Snape has all sorts of preserved animals and body parts floating in jars around the room, looming dark and foreboding on the wooden shelves. Harry doesn't know whether they're actually of any use, having been kept under preservation for so long, or if the organs and entrails are there purely for intimidation purposes.</p><p>Knowing Snape, probably the latter. Or a bit of both.</p><p>It's the large, mummified bat that draws Harry's attention though. He'd always thought it was funny - the infamous bat of the dungeons has a literal bat in his classroom - but now the shrunken corpse trapped in embalming fluid and under a powerful Preservation Charm is triggering a half-forgotten memory of bat spleens and Swelling Solutions. They'd made the potion... Harry can't remember which year it was, but he does remember the cupboard the bat spleens were kept in. It had been dark, smelly and absolutely freezing. Sticking his hand in to retrieve a slimy, half-frozen bat spleen had been nothing short of disgusting, and the sense memory had been carved into Harry's brain.</p><p>Harry hurries towards the ingredients store that holds all of the ingredients they use in class, clutching his vial in one hand and snagging another clean, empty vial on his way there. He quickly decants some of the unidentified liquid into the empty vial, stoppers it and then hunts around for the bat spleen cupboard. He finds it at the very back of the storeroom, soaked in so many Cooling Charms that the magic nips at Harry's skin as he cracks the door open and hurriedly places one of his vials on the shelf beside a jar of bat spleens. A wave of freezing cold air rolls out before Harry manages to shut the door again, and he shivers.</p><p>Counting to one hundred and twenty to keep a rough track of time, Harry waits two minutes before he opens the small cupboard again and pulls out his vial. It's cold to the touch, and small ice crystals are beginning to form around the outside of the vial and on the very top of the liquid inside.</p><p>Pulling his jumper sleeve down around his hand to prevent his fingers from going numb, Harry holds the vial up to the dim light and examines it. The liquid has remained clear and pure, with absolutely no precipitates gathered at the bottom or cloudiness in the solution. Harry wonders whether leaving the liquid to freeze would tell him anything interesting, but he's never seen frozen Veritaserum or poison before, so even if it did freeze differently, Harry wouldn't know what to look for.</p><p>Scurrying back out of the ingredients store before Snape decides to come investigate what exactly is taking him so long, Harry returns to his desk and places the vials in a rack, looking at them consideringly. The more he looks, the more certain he is that the vial contains nothing but water, but he can't <em>prove</em> it. And Snape isn't asking them to guess; he's asking them to identify, to <em>confirm</em>.</p><p>Hermione is now doing Merlin knows what with a strainer and bowl, and Harry decides to stop watching her before her inherent intelligence depresses him. She's probably already figured it out, and Harry doesn't need that kind of pressure right now. He's already lost enough as it is.</p><p>Glancing at Ron reassures him a bit. The three of them are the only Gryffindors in the class, and it's somewhat comforting to know that Harry isn't the only one without a clue what to do. When Ron catches his eye, he shrugs and goes back to flinging random ingredients into his cauldron to see what happens.</p><p>All too soon, the hour runs out. Snape calls on them to stop, and the entire class halts almost immediately and returns to their seats. Several students look anxious or concerned, and Harry is glad he's not the only one with very little to show for his hour's work.</p><p>Hermione looks very pleased with herself. Harry tries to feel proud of her and happy for her achievements, instead of vaguely envious with a sort of distant wondering about whether he can borrow her brain, just for a little while. It would no doubt help him tremendously.</p><p>'Can anyone here, with absolute confidence, identify the contents of their vial?' Snape asks the class after a moment of silence.</p><p>Nobody speaks, moves or raises their hand.</p><p>Harry waits for the scathing comment about a useless class of dunderheads. It doesn't come.</p><p>'As no one here has discovered a definitive test to identify the contents of their vial, your only other option is what?' Snape asks, raking his dark eyes over them all. His voice is flat, emotionless; giving no clues as to his temperament.</p><p>After a tense moment where nobody breathes, a brave seventh year Ravenclaw dares to raise his hand.</p><p>'Yes, Mulligan?'</p><p>'Process of elimination, sir,' Mulligan answers hesitantly.</p><p>'Indeed,' Snape drawls, rising from his seat and transferring his cane to his left hand so that he can pick up a stick of chalk with his right. 'Two points to Ravenclaw. There are at least one hundred and fifty nine potions and compounds that appear colourless at room temperature. Identifying the contents of your vial should be fairly simple then, yes?' Snape writes <em>159 potions</em> on the board. Nobody points out that over a hundred potions is a lot to go through and eliminate. 'What else have you concluded, Mr Mulligan?'</p><p>Mulligan looks extremely nervous. 'The potion is odourless, sir,' he says.</p><p>'Is it, Mr Mulligan? Are you certain?' Snape asks, even as he writes <em>Odourless</em> on the board beneath the 159.</p><p>'There is no notable smell, sir,' Mulligan replies, sounding even more anxious now that he is being challenged.</p><p>'And how, exactly, did you determine this, Mr Mulligan?' Snape asks in that same emotionless tone. He sounds almost calm, except that his entire body is alert and he acts disturbingly like a predator about to go in for the kill.</p><p>He does, a moment later.</p><p>'I smelled it, sir,' Mulligan answers nervously, clutching his vial to himself as if he expects it to protect him.</p><p>'You smelled it,' Snape repeats flatly. The entire class tenses. Mulligan looks ready to run.</p><p>'Yes, sir,' he stutters.</p><p>'And are you aware, Mr Mulligan, that there are several lethal poisons which evaporate into the air and, in gaseous form, can kill you within minutes? Some of which have a colourless appearance and no noticeable odour?' Snape asks ruthlessly.</p><p>Mulligan's eyes widen. His face pales. 'No, sir,' he blurts out, looking horrified.</p><p>Harry glances down at his own vial. He'd noted the possibility that it could contain a poison... but he hadn't taken the proper precautions, assuming it was one. He'd inhaled a lungful of an unknown substance without stopping to consider that <em>maybe he shouldn't do that</em>.</p><p>He feels like an idiot. Which, in hindsight, is probably the point of Snape's merciless questioning.</p><p>'In that case, Mr Mulligan,' Snape says in a sardonic drawl, 'let us hope that your vial does not contain poison.' He whirls around, scrutinising the rest of the class. 'What can we conclude from this?' he demands.</p><p>'The vial does not contain a poison which is lethal within minutes,' Blaise Zabini pipes up, looking totally unruffled by the day's proceedings.</p><p>'Why?' Snape presses.</p><p>'Because if it did, at least half the class would be dead,' Zabini answers drily.</p><p>'Good, Mr Zabini. Five points to Slytherin,' Snape praises. 'Which poisons can we eliminate?'</p><p>'Sarin,' Zabini offers, shrugging slightly.</p><p>'A Muggle poison? Interesting...' Snape writes the name on the board and then draws a thin line through it. Harry suddenly suspects that he knows how Zabini's mother kills off all of her husbands. A wizard might not think to look for a Muggle poison, after all. 'Any others?'</p><p>Nobody knows any other suitable poisons - or if they do, they're not willing to share - so Snape merely draws a line down the middle of the board and writes <em>ELIMINATED</em> at the top of the right hand side, before writing <em>Fast-acting, colourless, odourless poisons</em> underneath.</p><p>'What else can we conclude or eliminate?' Snape asks the class, meeting his students' gazes critically. 'Weasley?'</p><p>Ron jumps slightly, looking startled at being called on. 'Um, it could be water,' he blurts, floundering under the sudden pressure. Harry wishes he could reach out and reassure him.</p><p>'Why?' Snape demands.</p><p>'Because, er...' Ron flushes slightly. 'It looks like it?'</p><p>Harry winces. Snape stares at Ron with an unfathomable look upon his face. Whatever he's thinking, it's definitely not complimentary.</p><p>Surprisingly, Snape doesn't voice his disdain for Ron's poor answer. Instead, he merely glares at the tall boy until Ron manages to come up with a slightly more satisfactory response.</p><p>'It has a lot of the properties of water!' Ron says a touch frantically, desperately trying to dig himself out of the hole he's landed in.</p><p>'Such as?' Snape asks with a voice like a frozen desert.</p><p>'Um, colourless, odourless, it dissolves things, it's quite... runny...'</p><p>'It acts as a solvent,' Snape corrects sharply, and Ron blushes in embarrassment. 'And its viscosity? What of it?'</p><p>'It's the same as water?' Ron guesses.</p><p>Snape's face remains a blank mask for several seconds as he stares at Ron before he turns to the board and writes <em>Acts as a solvent</em> and <em>Similar viscosity to water</em> on the board. At the very far left of the chalkboard, he writes the heading <em>POSSIBLE IDENTITIES</em> and then carefully writes <em>Water</em> underneath in his tight, neat hand.</p><p>'Any other suitable guesses as to the identity of the liquid?' Snape asks coldly.</p><p>'Veritaserum,' Ron offers apprehensively.</p><p>For the first time since the beginning of class - or even perhaps since they first started Hogwarts - Snape seems to approve of something Ron has said, nodding slightly and writing the name in the column without criticising the suggestion. Ron slumps in relief.</p><p>'Anyone else?'</p><p>Students glance at each other, wondering who will be next to speak. Many don't dare to risk Snape's wrath... but Hermione <em>is</em> a Gryffindor, after all.</p><p>Her hand shoots into the air and, surprisingly, Snape calls on her without waiting to see if anyone else will speak or ignoring her altogether.</p><p>'Granger.'</p><p>'The potion is neutral,' Hermione announces proudly, sitting up straight on her stool.</p><p>'In what way?' Snape asks, even as he writes her answer on the board.</p><p>'It is neither acidic nor basic,' Hermione explains, holding up a small vial which contains a violet liquid. She is practically beaming.</p><p>'And how did you reach this conclusion?'</p><p>'A pH indicator made from red cabbage,' Hermione says happily. If she was a lesser person, she'd probably be smug. She's certainly the only one in the class that thought to make a pH indicator out of a bloody <em>cabbage</em>. 'When the indicator was added to a sample from the vial, it turned violet.' Hermione tilts the vial in her hand, drawing attention to its violet contents. 'If it was acidic it would have turned red or pink, and an alkaline substance would have turned it green or yellow.'</p><p>'Can we trust an indicator made by yourself? What of the risk of human error?' Snape challenges.</p><p>'I tested it on water to make sure it worked,' Hermione says triumphantly, holding up another similar violet vial, 'as well as substances that I knew the acidity or alkalinity of.' She holds up vials that are pink, red, blue, yellow and pale orange.</p><p>There is a moment of silence as Snape observes Hermione and everyone awaits his reaction. Hermione puts down her vials, for the first time looking slightly uncertain about her success.</p><p>'Excellent work, Miss Granger,' Snape says quietly. The entire class gapes. 'Ten points to Gryffindor.'</p><p>Harry nearly falls off his stool.</p><p>Snape turns sharply on his heel and locks onto the only Hufflepuff seventh year student. 'Samuels!'</p><p>'Yes, sir?' Samuels asks nervously.</p><p>'What contributions can you offer to our discussion?'</p><p>Samuels' eyes go wide. 'Um,' she says nervously. 'The potion doesn't contain wolfsbane, Professor.'</p><p>'Why not?'</p><p>'Because it doesn't react when moondew is added, Professor.'</p><p>'Good. Anything else?'</p><p>'It probably doesn't contain any volatile ingredients,' Samuels says apprehensively.</p><p>'<em>Probably</em>? Did I ask you to guess, Samuels?'</p><p>'No, Professor,' Samuels says meekly.</p><p>'Then why aren't you certain?' Snape asks sternly.</p><p>'I added powdered unicorn horn and dragon blood to the potion but there was no reaction,' Samuels says as if her words are the most sinful of confessions.</p><p>Snape pauses. 'You knowingly added volatile ingredients to an unknown liquid to see if they would react?' he asks slowly.</p><p>Samuels nods, unsure of where Snape is going with his questioning.</p><p>'Tell me, Samuels, if the vial had contained fire seeds or something else equally reactive, what would have happened?'</p><p>Samuels hesitates. 'It would have exploded, Professor,' she says quietly.</p><p>'And did you take any precautions when you were adding known volatile ingredients to your sample?' Snape asks silkily. He already knows her answer.</p><p>'No,' Samuels admits shakily.</p><p>'And if the contents of your cauldron had exploded and covered either yourself or one of your classmates, what would have happened?'</p><p>Samuels gulps like a witch before a pyre. 'We would have been injured, Professor.'</p><p>'<em>Burned</em>, Samuels,' Snape bites out harshly. 'You would have been burned so badly your uppermost layers of skin would have peeled off. I can only imagine the damage it would inflict on your eyes or airways.'</p><p>Samuels turns pale and drops her eyes to her tabletop. 'Sorry, Professor,' she whispers.</p><p>'It is not just me that you thoughtlessly risked, Samuels,' Snape says icily. 'Perhaps spare a modicum of thought for your defenceless classmates the next time you decide to throw dangerous ingredients around like confetti.'</p><p>Samuels nods meekly and doesn't speak.</p><p>'Act so carelessly again and you will have detention for the rest of your academic career,' Snape threatens before he finally decides to move on from snapping at Samuels. 'Who else has risked spontaneous combustion in the pursuit of mediocre thought?'</p><p>Nobody speaks.</p><p>'I see the rest of you are not so suicidally inclined. Good. Now, Potter! Be so kind as to inform the class of your observations.'</p><p>Harry blinks, taken aback. 'Er-' he glances down at his notes frantically, scrambling for something intelligent-sounding to offer up. 'The solution doesn't leave behind any residue when it evaporates,' he rushes out, 'and it doesn't precipitate when cooled.'</p><p>Snape's eyebrows raise slightly. 'And how exactly did you cool your sample, Potter? I recall specifically forbidding you from casting any spells, including Cooling Charms.'</p><p>'I know,' Harry says quickly, 'I didn't use magic. Well, not my own,' he says uncertainly, wondering for the first time if he's managed to accidentally cross a line and piss Snape off. Again.</p><p>'Not your own?' Snape repeats sharply. His voice is strained - perhaps from talking so much in class - but despite his mangled throat, he still manages to sound intimidating.</p><p>'I put a sample in the cupboard where the bat spleens are kept for approximately two minutes,' Harry explains cautiously. 'It has strong Cooling Charms on it.'</p><p>Snape pauses. 'And what of contamination? Of either your sample or the bat spleens?' he asks eventually.</p><p>'The sample was in a stoppered vial,' Harry answers, feeling relief rush through him - perhaps prematurely, but he thinks he's dodged the Bludger for now. 'And the bat spleens are in sealed jars.'</p><p>Snape apparently doesn't have any objections to Harry's anti-contamination techniques, because he writes <em>Evaporates completely</em> and <em>No precipitation when cooled</em> on the board and moves on with his questioning. Unfortunately, this isn't necessarily a good thing for Harry.</p><p>'And what have you deduced from your observations?'</p><p>Harry blinks. He glances down at his rack of vials, mind scattering as he attempts to reach a conclusion based on his findings. His gaze lands on the open textbook, and he blurts out the first thing that comes into his head.</p><p>'The liquid doesn't contain Flobberworm mucus,' Harry says, having absolutely no idea whether what he's claiming is correct, 'because components of the mucus would have precipitated when the temperature was lowered. If there had been boom berry juice present to counteract the precipitation, the liquid would be coloured, probably purple.'</p><p>Snape is watching Harry like a Kneazle watches a mouse. 'What else?'</p><p>Harry flounders. 'Er. It's not... a Sleeping Draught?'</p><p>'Clearly,' Snape drawls sarcastically, 'since your sample is <em>colourless</em>.'</p><p>Harry flushes. For a moment, he panics as he tries to come up with something else to say, before he resigns himself to the inevitable.</p><p>'Well?'</p><p>'I don't know,' Harry admits. 'Sir.'</p><p>'What do Potter's observations on the evaporation of the sample tell you?' Snape asks the class impatiently.</p><p>'The potion doesn't contain a salt?' Hermione guesses tentatively. Harry comforts himself with the knowledge that even she isn't completely sure what the lack of residue means.</p><p>'There aren't any dissolved crystals, either,' Zabini adds, sounding a lot more sure of himself. Harry tries not to feel like a total idiot, given that he'd written as much on his list less than an hour before. Why does he always lose his head around Snape?</p><p>'It's not the Skin Softening Solution,' Mulligan says nervously, looking like he regrets speaking the second he opens his mouth. 'It leaves a cream solid when evaporated.'</p><p>Snape writes their conclusions on the board whilst Harry tries not to feel too down about it. He can't know everything, he reminds himself, and especially not things they haven't even been taught yet.</p><p>He ignores that clearly everybody else has managed to learn these things.</p><p>Of course, assuming that Snape is done with Harry is another mistake - because he clearly isn't. Instead of moving on to another student, Snape turns back around and fixes his dark gaze on Harry once again.</p><p>'And your other observations, Potter?'</p><p>Harry stares at him before looking down at his vials. He hadn't managed to come up with anything else that wasn't complete conjecture. Sure, he has theories - namely that the "potion" is water - but he can't <em>prove</em> any of them.</p><p>Samuels might have nearly blown up the classroom, but at least she'd managed to conclude something useful. Harry hasn't even done that much.</p><p>'I don't have any, sir,' Harry says quietly, fighting down his embarrassment.</p><p>Snape gives Harry a piercing look. 'You will achieve nothing with lies, Mr Potter,' he says frigidly.</p><p>Harry stares at him in confusion. 'I'm not lying!' he exclaims indignantly. His bafflement is clear in his voice. Why is Snape picking on him?!</p><p><em>Oh, of course </em>- <em>b</em><em>ecause I'm Harry Potter.</em></p><p>'Read aloud your list, Potter,' Snape instructs him with a serious, unsmiling expression. 'I am particularly interested in points one, two and seven.'</p><p>Harry's mouth nearly falls open. <em>How did he know-?</em></p><p>Snape must have walked around the classroom, Harry realises in a flash, whilst he was busy counting to one hundred and twenty in the ingredients store. And in the midst of examining everyone's cauldrons and meagre progress, Snape stumbled across Harry's pathetic list, left lying out in the open for anyone to read.</p><p>Harry wants to kick himself.</p><p>The list lies, taunting, in front of Harry. How can he have been so <em>stupid</em>? It was supposed to just be a visual aid, a way to get his thoughts down and remind himself not to assume anything... and now he's about to be humiliated for it.</p><p>Harry Potter: the Chosen One, Saviour of the Wizarding World, and utterly incapable of drawing useful conclusions about potions.</p><p>Well, screw Snape. If Harry can't do well in his class, maybe it's because he's not being taught properly.</p><p>On that rebellious note, Harry picks up his scrap of parchment and decides to just get it over with. He's going to get chewed out for his lacklustre observations no matter what - he might as well make sure it goes quickly.</p><p>'The liquid could be a mixture of potions; could be poison or a biological substance such as tears or saliva; could be water or Veritaserum. The liquid does not leave behind salt, crystals, residue etcetera when evaporated and has no visible reaction when heated beyond the vapour emitted.' Harry hesitates on the last line, hating how silly it sounds, but knowing that Snape will catch him out if he tries to change or omit the last sentence. He'd specifically mentioned number seven, after all.</p><p>Harry sighs and resigns himself to mockery. 'I cannot make any assumptions about it,' he finishes, and tosses the parchment back onto his desk resentfully. He should've crumpled it up and chucked it while he had the chance.</p><p>'Thank you, Mr Potter,' Snape drawls in the most unfriendly manner of thanks Harry has ever heard. The Potions Master watches Harry shrewdly for a moment before he - <em>finally!</em> - turns to the rest of the class.</p><p>'What about the list Mr Potter just read aloud is particularly significant?' Snape asks expectantly, and Harry waits for someone to shout <em>Nothing! </em>and then laugh at his incompetence. Miraculously, nobody does.</p><p>'Well?' Snape demands when nobody speaks. 'Nobody?' he says disapprovingly, and Harry can practically see the <em>Mindless dunderheads</em> that swims across Snape's thoughts.</p><p>Snape walks back to the board, leaning more heavily on his cane than he was at the beginning of class an hour and a half before, and underlines the very first thing he wrote.</p><p>'One hundred and fifty nine <em>potions</em>,' Snape says slowly.</p><p>'<em>Oh</em>,' Zabini says softly. Nobody else gets it.</p><p>'Mr Potter,' Snape informs them drily, 'is a mediocre but adequate potioneer. He is far from the best in this class.' Harry's face flames with humiliation, even though he already knows it's true. 'So would someone like to explain to me why he was the only one - barring perhaps Mr Weasley, another middling student - that considered the possibility that the vial may not contain a potion at all?'</p><p>Resounding silence.</p><p>'You should all have learned by now that assumptions are for brainless fools in early graves,' Snape continues relentlessly. 'Yet not one of you questioned whether you were handling a potion at all. Not one of you asked yourselves whether it could be, in fact, a pure ingredient alone. The closest any of you came was guessing that it might be water, but if you expect me to be impressed with a speculation that even the most witless of first years could have dreamed up, then you are going to be sorely disappointed.'</p><p>In the seat next to Harry, Hermione deflates, as if Snape's disgust with them all is physically weighing her down and crushing her earlier triumph.</p><p>'To make matters worse, Potter alone was the only one of you to realise that the contents may not be pure,' Snape adds after a moment of tense silence. 'Did none of you think that perhaps the vial contained a mixture? Mulligan - you wish to be a Healer, do you not? Surely you have read by now that medicinal potions are often administered together and can even improve the effectiveness of one or both in such a mixture?' Mulligan shrinks in his seat. 'And Patil!' Padma freezes. 'Surely with all the time you spend smearing a concoction of skin products on your face, you have realised that it is possible to combine the effects of different potions without ill effects?'</p><p>Snape glares at them all except Harry. It makes for a rather nice and novel change, even if Harry can't exactly enjoy it and ends up feeling bad for everyone else.</p><p>'Zabini! Were you not aware that poisons can be added to food and drink? Does it not then follow that other such combinations are possible?' Zabini stares at his desk.</p><p>Snape's rant cuts off, and he throws down his chalk and clutches his forehead tightly with one hand. His eyes are squeezed shut, as if he is in legitimate pain, and Harry is taken aback. Surely the man can't be <em>that</em> angry over one simple mistake?</p><p>There is a heavy silence as Snape walks slowly back to his chair behind his desk and sinks down into it like a drowning man. For a moment, he rests his head against clasped hands, elbows on his desk almost as if he is engaged in silent prayer. Then he raises his head, the curtain of black hair (for once not greasy, but clean and fairly straight) falling back to reveal his tight, irritated expression.</p><p>'I cannot teach you all if you will not <em>think!</em>' Snape bites out with vehement exasperation. 'Class dismissed.'</p><p>There is a stunned moment where nobody does anything, too surprised at the early dismissal to react, but then there is a frantic scramble to pack their belongings away and leave as quickly and quietly as possible.</p><p>Half the class has already fled the room when Samuels, in the middle of returning her half-empty vial to the rack on Snape's desk, drops it.</p><p>The shattering glass causes everyone to turn and look. Snape's head whips up and he glares at Samuels in frustration, sending the girl two steps backwards in fright.</p><p>'It seems a smidgen of caution and care would do you a world of good, Miss Samuels,' Snape says cuttingly, his annoyance evident.</p><p>'Sorry, Professor,' Samuels whimpers, bright red and mortified.</p><p>Snape resumes his previous position, eyes closed and head bowed, pressed against his clasped hands. He seems to be at the end of a very short tether, and Harry is honestly amazed that nobody has received detention or even lost House points yet.</p><p>Samuels pulls out her wand to clean up the mess on Snape's desk - and the liquid better not be harmful, Harry thinks in mild alarm, since it's beginning to seep into the wide sleeves of Snape's outer robes where they are resting on the desk, and the man doesn't seem to have noticed yet - when Snape's head suddenly snaps up again and his eyes go wide. He surges to his feet, one hand held out wide in panic.</p><p>'<em>Reparo</em>. <em>Tergeo</em>,' Samuels casts, only moments before Snape cries out, '<em>STOP!</em>' and then the spells siphon the spilled liquid back into the newly repaired vial, and Snape collapses onto the floor.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Ahahahahaa &gt;:)</p><p>On a side note... comments feed my soul... and my soul is very hungry.</p><p>Please consider feeding my soul today.</p><p>Think of the children.</p><p>But also my soul.</p><p>(Mostly my soul.)</p><p>:D</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The Secrets of Severus Snape</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for all of the lovely comments! :) they made me smile so wide! Xx</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The second after Snape collapses, nobody moves. Everybody stares at his body, slumped on the dungeon floor, in baffled shock.</p><p>Then they're all moving.</p><p>Samuels staggers backwards, one hand clapped to her mouth and looking absolutely horrified. Harry and Hermione surge forwards to help the prone professor, whilst Ron pulls Samuels backwards and out of the way; the girl will clearly be of no use until she's calmed down.</p><p>Harry rolls Snape onto his back, pushing his chair out of the way whilst Hermione Summons her wand from her bag with nothing but a thought.</p><p>'Snape? Can you hear me?' Harry asks, heart pounding in his chest as he leans over the man, searching for signs of life. Pressing his fingers against Snape's scarred throat reveals a pulse; Harry slumps in relief. Whatever else is wrong, Snape is still alive.</p><p>'He's got a pulse,' he tells Hermione, and she nods decisively.</p><p>'Pull back his eyelid,' she instructs Harry, and he obeys whilst Hermione casts a <em>Lumos</em> and shines the light into Snape's eye. The pupil contracts, and Harry's pretty sure that's a good sign. When Hermione repeats the process, the other eye reacts similarly.</p><p>'Okay. It could've been the vial - he said there wasn't a fast-acting poison in it, but...' Hermione trails off, biting her lip. In the background, he can hear Ron taking charge of the rest of the class and ordering someone to run for Pomfrey, but Harry forces himself to focus on the here and now.</p><p>'Best to get rid of it, just in case,' Harry agrees, lifting Snape's arm to reveal the wet patches on his long sleeves.</p><p>Just as Hermione casts another <em>Tergeo</em>, Snape's entire body spasms.</p><p>'Surely it can't have been absorbed into his bloodstream that quickly,' Harry says disbelievingly, staring down at Snape in horror.</p><p>'It shouldn't have, but we don't know what it is,' Hermione says, running her hand through her hair in panic. 'Okay, let's try a diagnostic. Just give me a second to remember the wand movement-'</p><p>Harry can see the stress building as Hermione struggles to remember the correct Healing spells. As much as they all joke about her intelligence, she's not actually a superhuman machine, and her memory is finite just like everyone else's. She hasn't used the diagnostic spell in months - hasn't needed to, after they won the war - and trying to remember it perfectly in such a tense moment with a man's life potentially at stake is pushing her to the limits of what she can handle without losing her calm.</p><p>'Ron! Find us a bezoar!' Harry calls out without looking away from Snape, knowing Ron will do as asked. They need a second plan to fall back on if Hermione's limited Healing knowledge fails.</p><p>'I've got it!' Hermione gasps in relief, quickly swishing her wand through the air in a complicated pattern and muttering an incantation Harry can't hear.</p><p>Abruptly, Snape begins to seize.</p><p>His entire body stiffens, muscles rapidly contracting without warning, and then Snape is thrashing on the ground, his limbs bashing against his desk, the stone floor and Harry and his back arching unnaturally.</p><p>Harry feels ice-cold dread slice down his spine.</p><p>'Keep his head still!' Hermione cries out, voice rising an octave as she tries to contain a rapidly spiralling situation. Harry obeys without question, taking hold of Snape's head and cushioning it in his hands to prevent the man from cracking his skull open against the stone floor.</p><p>'Maybe a <em>Rennervate</em>?' Harry suggests desperately as Snape continues to jerk and twitch. He winces as Snape's head snaps back and Harry's hands jar against the hard floor.</p><p>For a moment Hermione is torn, but her Healing knowledge is limited and they have nothing else to try. She casts the Reviving Spell, watching hopefully as it hits Snape.</p><p>Snape gets worse.</p><p>His body tenses up again before thrashing wildly, smacking against the desk and floor so forcefully that Harry's surprised the pain of it doesn't wake him. Whilst Harry tries to hold the man's flailing arms down with one hand, Hermione snaps frantically at their staring audience and Ron rushes forwards to pin Snape's legs with his body weight.</p><p>'Pomfrey and McGonagall will be here soon,' Ron promises, passing Harry the requested bezoar, but it's cheap reassurance when Snape lets out a pained sound and thrashes harder.</p><p>'If we try to give him the bezoar or a Calming Draught he'll choke on it,' Harry says, voicing his concern as he realises his Plan B will only make things worse.</p><p>'There's no way whatever was in the vials caused this,' Hermione says frantically, sounding close to tears.</p><p>'We should petrify him before he hurts himself,' Ron suggests tersely, wheezing when Snape kicks him and fighting the man's legs back to the floor.</p><p>Hermione raises her wand to carry out Ron's suggestion when she suddenly stops. 'Oh, god,' she whispers, eyes flying wide. 'It wasn't the potion. It was the <em>spells</em>.'</p><p>'What?!' Ron cries out, swearing when Snape nearly knees him in the balls.</p><p>'Every time someone's cast a spell on him it's gotten worse,' Hermione says quickly, her voice high and frightened. 'Why - Why is that happening? I don't know what causes that!'</p><p>'It's okay,' Ron says her quickly, holding out an arm to reassure her and swiftly retracting it when he nearly gets a knee to the face. 'You don't have to know the cause Hermione, we just have to stop it from getting worse until Pomfrey gets here! Okay?'</p><p>Hermione nods, but she doesn't look fully convinced. She begins holding down Snape's arms, allowing Harry to focus on preventing Snape from slamming his head back.</p><p>'OI! YOU LOT! DON'T CAST ANY BLOODY SPELLS!' Ron hollers at the other students in the classroom.</p><p>'Snape told us not to cast any spells in class,' Harry blurts in sudden realisation, the pieces clicking into place in his head. He stares down at the Potions Master, whose face is creased in pain.</p><p>'He knew this would happen,' Hermione agrees, panicked but managing to focus enough to work past it. 'It must be something he already had. The vial had nothing to do with it.' Her brows are creased with worried confusion. 'I've never heard of anything like this,' she admits fearfully.</p><p>The sound of Professor McGonagall barking at students to get out of the way almost makes Harry cry in relief. The crowd scatters, Zabini following in the Headmistress' wake as she rushes to where Ron, Harry and Hermione are holding Snape down.</p><p>'What happened?' McGonagall demands, her voice like a cracked whip as she sinks down to her knees beside Harry and helps Hermione hold Snape down.</p><p>'We think it was the spells,' Hermione explains quickly, her answer rushing out of her. 'Samuels cast a <em>Tergeo</em> and Professor Snape collapsed, and then I-' Hermione cuts off, her eyes blurring with tears. 'I made it worse!' she exclaims, her voice thick with guilt. 'I'm so sorry Professor, I didn't know what was happening-'</p><p>'That's quite alright, Miss Granger,' Professor McGonagall interrupts, her gaze falling back to Snape. Thankfully, the man's seizure finally seems to be easing.</p><p>Snape lets out a soft moan of pain, his entire body shuddering, and Harry wishes he could turn away. He's never dealt well with other people's pain; he absolutely hates witnessing it. Harry would much rather just take the pain himself.</p><p>'<em>Oh, Severus</em>...' McGonagall whispers, and for a brief second her hand flits over his forehead, brushing back some of his hair. Then her professional demeanour snaps back into place and McGonagall is standing up, ordering the staring students to leave and demanding to know if someone has sent for Pomfrey.</p><p>'Mulligan went to get her,' Zabini answers, unable to tear his eyes away from Snape. 'Headmistress...' Zabini begins hesitantly, then falters.</p><p>'He'll be alright, Zabini,' Professor McGonagall says kindly, her reassurance lifting some of the weight from the Slytherin's shoulders. 'Madam Pomfrey knows how to handle this. She's a very capable Healer.'</p><p>As if summoned, Pomfrey appears in the doorway, out of breath but still as strict as she waves students out of her way.</p><p>'Nobody cast any spells!' she instructs the second she catches sight of Snape seizing on the floor. 'You three - help me lift him.'</p><p>Mulligan and a student Harry doesn't recognise hurry over, laying down a stretcher beside Snape. Together, they all heave Snape off the ground and settle him as gently as they can on the stiff white fabric. Grabbing ahold of one of the poles, Harry helps lift the stretcher up and together with Zabini, Ron, Hermione and Mulligan, they carry Snape out of the classroom, through the dungeons and up to the hospital wing.</p><p>The entire time they're carrying Snape, Harry's heart is pounding and all he can think about is the memory of the same man lying, pale and bloody and dying, on the floor of the Shrieking Shack, spilling memories and life and blood onto an uncaring wooden floor...</p><p>Harry is panting and sweating by the time they lay Snape down on a hospital bed. They'd jogged the entire way, trying not to jostle Snape's unconscious body, and he has never appreciated until now how heavy an adult man is.</p><p>'Zabini, get me a bowl of cold water! Mulligan! Clean white cloths! Granger! There is a dark green box in my office - fetch it. Weasley! Anyone so much as lifts a wand, you tackle them. Got it?'</p><p>Pomfrey, Harry realises suddenly, is just as stressed as they are; she's just better at hiding it.</p><p>Harry watches silently, tense and apprehensive, as Pomfrey rushes around, muttering to herself as she grabs bottles and flasks from cupboards and gathers up the items she'd requested from the others. Pulling a wheeled tray loaded with all sorts of medical supplies towards Snape's bed, she begins laying cold, wet cloths over his forehead.</p><p>'Unbutton his sleeves and pull them up!' Pomfrey orders, and Harry and Mulligan obey quickly, exposing Snape's pale arms and the stark contrast of the Dark Mark on his left forearm.</p><p>Harry swallows and looks away. They have more important things to worry about right now.</p><p>Pomfrey begins rubbing a white paste into Snape's wrists; Harry has no idea what it's supposed to do, but he hopes fervently that it acts quickly. Hermione is instructed to keep track of Snape's pulse, and alert Pomfrey if his heart rate changes noticeably. Ron swaps the wet cloths every time they grow warm - and they're heating up far faster than they should - and Zabini wipes away any drool or spittle from Snape's mouth (as well as tears from his eyes, but nobody acknowledges the pain the professor is clearly in).</p><p>Harry is handed a box of strange, dark purple vines and told to wrap them around Snape's forearms and bandage them, but whilst touching them as little as possible. 'They drain magic,' Pomfrey explains hurriedly and then turns away before Harry can ask any perplexed questions.</p><p>'Do I need to send for St. Mungo's, Poppy?' Professor McGonagall asks worriedly when five minutes have passed and Snape still remains unconscious. The seizing has eased, thankfully, but the man shows no sign of waking.</p><p>'His body might have gone into shock,' Pomfrey says with a crease between her eyebrows. 'He's been through a lot recently...' she trails off for a moment, lost in thought, before she pulls herself back to the present and shakes her head sharply. 'That won't be necessary, Minerva.'</p><p>McGonagall nods her head and acquiesces, stepping back to allow the matron to work unhindered.</p><p>Harry finishes attaching the vines to Snape's arms and covering them with bandages. His fingers feel strange and tingly, which he guesses means that he's been sapped of some of his magic. He tries not to let the odd sensation bother him as he casts his gaze over Snape in concern. The professor is pale and motionless, having gone from mad thrashing to horrible stillness in a severely disconcerting way. It's almost like he's -</p><p><em>Don't</em>, Harry tells himself sternly, and swipes the back of his hand across his brow. He feels a bit lightheaded.</p><p>'Potter, Zabini, Mulligan - you can go,' Pomfrey says abruptly, and without warning suddenly the three of them are being herded out of the hospital wing by a firm Professor McGonagall.</p><p>'Zabini, go to my classroom and write a notice on the board. My afternoon class is cancelled for today,' McGonagall orders before she disappears back into the infirmary and shuts the door firmly behind her.</p><p>Harry, who is due to have Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall that afternoon, can't find the energy to be pleased. Instead he just feels tired, yet still keyed up with stress and worry. It's hard to feel happy about avoiding an afternoon class and some homework when he's just watched a man he's known since he was eleven have a life-threatening seizure, and there was nothing he could do to help.</p><p>Harry walks back to the Potions classroom in a daze, head whirling with everything's that just happened. When he gets there, everyone else is gone and the classroom is in disarray. Needing something to do and knowing that Snape will likely be unwell for at least the rest of the day, Harry begins methodically tidying away the equipment and ingredients left lying out, and places all of the vials back in the rack on Snape's desk and puts them on top of a shelf. He's pretty sure they only contain water, but he'd rather not risk a first year getting their hands on them anyway.</p><p>Harry doesn't dare use magic to help tidy anything away. It's too reckless, even for him.</p><p>Once the stools have all been tucked back under the desks and he's made sure all the burners are off, Harry wipes down the chalkboard and leaves a message for any other classes Snape might have for the day, informing them that class is cancelled and they should go to the library, revise all of their previous schoolwork and read the first chapters of their new textbooks. It sounds like the kind of thing Snape would write instead of simply giving them the afternoon off, so Harry figures it'll do.</p><p>Harry packs his, Ron and Hermione's bags up and shoulders them all, feeling rather like an overtaxed donkey, and turns to leave. He pauses when he spots Snape's thin black cane lying abandoned beside his desk.</p><p>Snape needs the cane to walk - or it at least seems to help him. He won't be able to Summon it with magic if spells have a negative effect on him, so...</p><p>Harry can't believe he's considering doing a favour for Snape, completely unasked no less. <em>Multiple</em> favours, in fact, since he's already tidied the man's classroom.</p><p>Resigned, Harry sighs. He already knows what he's going to do; there's no point denying it.</p><p>Traipsing back up to Gryffindor Tower with three heavy school bags and a walking cane is nobody's idea of fun, especially when the Featherlight Charm on Hermione's bag seems to be wearing off and Harry is too nervous to cast another one whilst he's also in possession of Snape's cane. It's ridiculous, but Harry is now paranoid about somehow accidentally hurting the man. They might have been at odds for years, and in some sort of bizarre, unspoken truce now, but Harry would never wish purposeful hurt on the man like he'd witnessed in the classroom.</p><p>Once their school bags have been deposited in the Common Room, left in the capable hands of Neville, Harry begins the trek back to the hospital wing. Several passing students stare at him - whether because of the Festival fiasco or the fact that Harry is carrying Snape's cane, he doesn't know and frankly doesn't care - but Harry manages to avoid any flirting or attempts to talk until -</p><p>'Harry.'</p><p>Harry freezes, cursing himself when he realises too late that he should've just kept walking. He turns to face the dark-haired woman he'd rejected only a couple of days before by torching her letter in the middle of the Entrance Hall whilst a small crowd watched on. Harry had thought the public humiliation would keep her away from him; apparently he'd thought wrong.</p><p>'It's Potter to you,' he says bluntly, unwilling to get caught up in another awful conversation with the stranger. 'I don't even know your name.'</p><p>'Evalina Jenkins,' the woman introduces herself, holding out one hand, 'but you can call me Lina, if you like.' She winks.</p><p>'Listen, <em>Jenkins</em>,' Harry says flatly, 'I'm not interested. Alright? So how about we go our separate ways, and we never have to see each other again.'</p><p>For a moment Jenkins is thoroughly taken aback, blinking rapidly before her entire face is overtaken by anger. She struggles to control it, pretty features twisting unpleasantly as she attempts to keep her mask on.</p><p>'That will be hard to do, Harry,' Jenkins says as sweetly as she can through gritted teeth, 'given that I'm your new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor. Perhaps you ought to show a little more respect.'</p><p>For a moment Harry is certain Jenkins is joking, because there's <em>no way</em> -</p><p>But then she smiles at him, and Harry feels trapped.</p><p>Why? Why is it <em>always</em> the Defence professors?</p><p>'Then you'll agree that this is completely inappropriate,' Harry grits out, glaring at Jenkins as she drops her hovering hand and takes a step closer.</p><p>'You've reached the age of majority, Harry,' Jenkins says in a tone that manages to be both encouraging and patronising. 'It's not common, but it is completely legal. There's nothing McGonagall can do to stop us.'</p><p>Harry battles with several different responses - <em>fuck off; it's Headmistress McGonagall; you're a complete creep</em> - but in the end he settles for, 'Yeah, but there's plenty <em>I</em> can do to stop it. Like this: No. Way. In. Hell.'</p><p>Jenkins finally seems to get the message, because her mask crumbles and she gives him a furious, seething glare. Harry glares right back. Apparently Jenkins isn't used to being rejected or told <em>no</em>, but Harry's happy to be the first.</p><p>'There's no way you're gay,' Jenkins spits. Harry is almost impressed with himself at how easily he's gotten under her skin. 'Everyone knows you were panting after that Weasley b-'</p><p>'<em>Stop</em>.' Harry's voice is flat and murderous. 'Stop right now before you say something that makes me hex you.' His right hand clenches around his wand; his left around Snape's cane. He doesn't want to start a duel and risk the magic contaminating the cane somehow, but he will if he has to. He'll buy Snape a new one if it comes to it; he won't let some bitch of a professor stand there and insult his friend.</p><p>Jenkins manages to wrestle her temper back under her control, smoothing away the worst of her anger from her face. It's too late, though - now that Harry's seen what she's really like underneath her pretty smiles and empty compliments he has no intention of going anywhere near her ever again.</p><p>'I'm sure this is all just a misunderstanding,' Jenkins tries next, and Harry almost laughs.</p><p>'Yes, it is,' he agrees, giving Jenkins a scrap of hope for one beautiful moment before he rips it all away. 'You're completely misunderstanding absolutely everything. So let me make it crystal clear for you: who I'm interested in is none of your business, since it will never, <em>ever</em> be you. Got it?'</p><p>It occurs to Harry too late that he's taking far too rude a tone with a professor than he should be. </p><p>Keeping calm and controlling his own temper have never been strong points of Harry's.</p><p>Jenkins' anger seems to be feeding off Harry's, because she only becomes more enraged the longer they talk. Her eyes land on the cane in Harry's hand, and suddenly she's <em>furious</em>. 'So you're <em>his</em>, then?' she snaps, and for a moment Harry is so confused about what she's trying to imply that he loses track of the conversation altogether.</p><p>'What?'</p><p>Jenkins gestures at the thin black cane in his left hand. It's unmistakeable, if unadorned - sort of like the man that owns it. 'You're <em>his</em> little lap dog,' she says spitefully.</p><p>Harry chokes. '<em>Snape's!?</em>' he says incredulously. 'Are you out of your <em>mind</em>?!'</p><p>'So insolent,' Jenkins says after a beat of silence, propping a hand on one hip and giving him a victorious smirk. Suddenly she's all happy smiles and triumph, despite her anger ten seconds before. 'Rude little boys like you need to be taught a lesson.' She grins, suddenly delighted. '<em>Detention</em>.' She announces her verdict like she's just won a prize only she can see. 'With me, seven o'clock on Wednesday night.'</p><p>Harry stares at her. So Jenkins really is his new professor, then, if she's giving out detentions.</p><p>Fuck.</p><p>'Is that understood?' Jenkins asks sweetly, and for a moment Harry seriously considers Stunning her.</p><p>'Yes,' he bites out instead, because apparently it gives him moral high ground or something to walk away, and then he spins on his heel and marches towards the hospital wing with a face like a spitting Nundu.</p><p>• • • • • •</p><p>When Harry eventually reaches the hospital wing, McGonagall, Ron and Hermione are gone. His best friends are probably back in Gryffindor Tower with Neville by now, and Harry can't wait to complain to them about how awful their new professor is. But his ranting and raving (and occasional swearing) will have to wait, because he needs to find Snape first and return his cane.</p><p>Snape, as it turns out, is awake.</p><p>And drugged to the eyeballs.</p><p>Harry doesn't know <em>what</em> Madam Pomfrey gave the man, but it is clearly depriving Snape of some of his higher cognitive abilities, because he is rambling to himself about shrivelfigs when Harry steps up to his bed. Pomfrey hasn't placed curtains or privacy screens around Snape's bed, so Harry figures it's safe to approach, and the result is that he is greeted with:</p><p>'Ah, Potter... a dunderheaded nitwit if ever I saw one... but perhaps not - you did well in class, after all... no one ever realises the water has lye in it...'</p><p>Harry's eyebrows shoot up. Perhaps he will get something positive out of today after all: the answer to a puzzle that not even Hermione could solve.</p><p>It's cheating, of course, but Harry decides to ignore that pesky little detail.</p><p>'I came to give you back your cane so you can walk,' Harry informs his professor, amused that his good deed has given him a small gift of its own. His irritation with Jenkins is momentarily forgotten as he wonders whether Hermione will promise to help with whatever homework they get assigned tomorrow if he tells her what Snape's vials contained.</p><p>Smiling to himself, Harry steps closer and rests the walking stick against the side of Snape's bed, hoping the man will find it there when he eventually sobers up.</p><p>'Déjà vu,' Snape says suddenly, staring up at Harry with startling clarity in his eyes. Harry would swear the man had all of his normal mental faculties based on his facial expression, if it weren't for the words he keeps slurring out, hilarious and disturbing in equal measures.</p><p>'What?' Harry asks, caught off guard.</p><p>'The last time we were like this, I was nearly dead,' Snape says calmly, and Harry feels a chill run down his spine.</p><p>'I think that's enough,' Harry says firmly, trying to hide how shaken he is by Snape's words. 'I just wanted to give you back your cane. It's right here, see? Okay?'</p><p>'The snake ripped my throat out,' Snape continues, completely disregarding Harry's words and mounting discomfort, 'and all I could feel was regret.'</p><p>Despite all of his better judgement, Harry can't stop his incessant curiosity from blurting, 'Regret?' A second later he wants to hit himself, and he takes a step back. Snape's next words freeze him in place.</p><p>'Lily's son was trying to save my life,' Snape says, eyes leaving Harry's to stare at the ceiling, 'and all I knew about him for certain was that he hated me. ...It drove me mad, when I was lost.'</p><p>Harry swallows harshly. He suddenly feels like he's massively invading Snape's privacy. 'I don't hate you,' he tries to reassure Snape.</p><p>Snape laughs, and it's deep and hoarse and horrible. 'Liar,' he hisses, amused, eyes flitting back to Harry's. 'I've been in your skull, boy. You've been in mine. We know each other too well to do anything but hate.'</p><p>'I <em>don't</em>,' Harry repeats. He thinks it might even be the truth. 'Maybe when I was a kid,' he admits guiltily, despite still believing that a lot of his ill-will towards Snape was justified, 'but not anymore. You...' Harry struggles for a moment. 'You're different, now,' he settles on eventually. It's true. Harry would never have dreamed of Snape awarding Hermione ten House points and calling her work "<em>excellent</em>". It sounds like a fever dream.</p><p>'I never wanted to be a monster,' Snape tells Harry solemnly out of nowhere.</p><p>Everything stops.</p><p>'You're not,' Harry croaks out, heart hammering in his chest, and then he whirls around and rushes out of the hospital wing, confusion and shock and guilt spiralling through his brain.</p><p>• • • • • •</p><p>News of Snape's collapse has spread by the time Harry makes it back to Gryffindor Tower. He finds Ron, Hermione and Neville huddled in a circle of armchairs near the empty fireplace, murmuring to each other in low voices.</p><p>'Harry!' Ron calls when he spots him, waving him over to a spare seat. 'We were about to go looking for you. Where'd you go?'</p><p>'Went to give Snape his cane back; it got left behind in the classroom,' Harry says by way of explanation, dropping down into the empty chair and running a hand through his hair with a sigh. 'He's so drugged he barely knows which way is up.'</p><p>Ron frowns. 'We were just saying...' he trails off and glances at Neville.</p><p>Neville leans forwards, a very serious look on his face. Harry straightens up, recognising the need for his full attention, and silently throws up a powerful Privacy Charm with a wave of his hand.</p><p>'I can't be certain,' Neville begins warily, keeping his voice as low as he can, 'but what Hermione described sounds like an aftereffect of overexposure to the Cruciatus Curse.'</p><p>Harry's mind spins. 'You think <em>Voldemort</em> did this?' he whispers.</p><p>'After you left, Madam Pomfrey let it slip that it was a pre-existing condition exacerbated by Nagini's attack,' Hermione jumps in. 'Professor Snape must have already been having side effects, and then getting poisoned and nearly dying made it worse.'</p><p>'What's that got to do with his magic?' Harry asks, confused.</p><p>'If you're repeatedly exposed to the Cruciatus for long periods of time, it can sometimes... linger,' Neville says, frowning heavily. 'It happened to my parents,' he admits uncomfortably, looking away for a moment. 'There's a reason the Curse is Unforgivable, and not just because you can't block it. There are other awful Dark torture curses with no counterspell. But the Cruciatus... it can <em>stay</em>. Even months or years later, if it's still clinging to your body and something triggers it, it can send you into another episode.'</p><p>'So... that seizure... you think Snape was being <em>Crucioed</em>?' Harry realises, horrified.</p><p>'We think that every time Professor Snape is directly exposed to magic, like Samuels' <em>Tergeo</em> or my diagnostic spell, it triggers the Curse and... hurts him,' Hermione says softly. 'The aftermath of Nagini must have made it worse, because lots of Healing spells would've been cast on him, and they would've triggered the Curse.'</p><p>'So that's why he's got a cane,' Harry says, understanding clicking into place. 'There's nothing wrong with his legs, he's just... in pain. All the time.'</p><p>'Hopefully not <em>all</em> the time...' Hermione trails off, biting her lip. 'But, um, yes.'</p><p>'Wait, what about his own magic?' Harry asks.</p><p>'Maybe he can't do any?' Ron guesses. His eyebrows shoot up. 'Hey, maybe that's why he's teaching Potions instead of Defence.'</p><p>Harry shakes his head. 'No, he can still do magic,' he disagrees. 'He cast a Warming Charm on me when I... yesterday.'</p><p>Everyone carefully avoids mentioning Harry's upset the day before.</p><p>'Maybe the Curse can distinguish between his own magic and foreign magic, and only triggers when someone else casts a spell,' Hermione says thoughtfully.</p><p>'Or maybe his own magic doesn't register with it, or any other magics that he's used to being around,' Neville suggests. Hermione looks at him in surprise. 'It would explain why the ambient magic of Hogwarts isn't triggering it all the time.'</p><p>'Or maybe it is,' Harry says, frowning. 'The background magic of Hogwarts might be why he walks with a cane.'</p><p>They all fall into thoughtful silence.</p><p>'Is there a cure?' Harry asks a minute later, but Neville's face already tells him everything he needs to know.</p><p>'Not really,' Neville says heavily, sighing and looking down at his hands. 'It fades over time, but... it can take years. My parents got "lucky". Dumbledore gave them a couple of Phoenix tears from Fawkes, and they helped to get rid of a lot of their symptoms.'</p><p>Harry feels his heart rate pick up. 'Phoenix tears?' he repeats dazedly. Hermione shoots him a sharp, shrewd look. Ron's eyes widen.</p><p>Neville nods. 'They're extremely powerful for healing,' he explains, unaware that Harry has first hand experience with them. 'My parents would probably have died without them. But they can't fix everything with a single drop. My parents... they needed more. And after the war... so many people needed help. Fawkes was only one Phoenix; he wasn't a waterfall. There's a limit to how often a Phoenix can cry... I don't blame Dumbledore, or anything. He did his best. But by the time Gran was able to get more tears, the damage was permanent. Even Phoenix tears can only do so much, and my parents...'</p><p>Neville trails off, and they sit in tense silence.</p><p>'If Snape had Phoenix tears, he'd probably be cured,' Neville says eventually, wiping at his face. They all look away while he regains his composure. 'The only problem is that they're ridiculously expensive - seriously, my life isn't worth as much as a Phoenix tear - and now that Fawkes is gone... And even if Snape somehow saves up enough money, if it takes too long to get the tears then it'll be too late.'</p><p>Harry can feel a plan forming in his head. Hermione and Ron clearly know him too well, because they're giving him significant looks that clearly say <em>Slow Down And Think This Through For Once, You Idiot</em>. Harry ignores them.</p><p>'What is someone Transfigured themselves into a Phoenix? Like Krum half-turned himself into a shark during the Second Task?' Harry asks as casually as he can.</p><p>Neville's eyebrows raise. 'Human Transfiguration is extremely difficult,' he says slowly.</p><p>'And it's even harder to turn into a magical creature,' Hermione adds pointedly.</p><p>'But it'd work, right?' Harry continues. 'Theoretically, I mean.'</p><p>Neville looks at Harry for a long moment. 'Maybe,' he says finally. 'But Transfiguration usually isn't permanent unless the spellcaster is very powerful. The only Transfigured Potions ingredients that are known to work are those from Animagi and Maledicti. Everything else eventually turns back or doesn't work.'</p><p>Harry's heart beats even faster. Ron looks excited. Hermione is stuck between disapproving and resigned.</p><p>Neville looks between them suspiciously.</p><p>'Thanks, Nev!' Harry says, clapping him on the shoulder and leaping to his feet. He scoops up his schoolbag from where he'd left it earlier and hurries towards his dorm room.</p><p>Ron and Hermione are quick on his heels. The second they enter the eighth year boys' dormitory, Hermione locks the door and throws down enough Privacy Charms to ward a manor.</p><p>'Harry,' she says, and then stops. She takes a deep breath. 'You don't know for certain...'</p><p>'You agreed with me!' Harry argues, unable to stop the eager anticipation bubbling up inside him. 'You said that I looked like-'</p><p>'We don't know for certain!' Hermione interrupts. 'We can't get our hopes up until your Animagus form matures. And Harry, even that's unusual-'</p><p>'Oh come on, Hermione!' Ron butts in, smile spreading wide on his face. 'How many birds d'you know that have red and gold feathers?'</p><p>'His feathers have only just started to come through!' Hermione snaps back. 'He's mostly still grey! And we're getting ahead of ourselves. Even if Harry <em>is</em> a Phoenix, he still won't be able to cry for at least another two weeks-'</p><p>'But I'll be able to,' Harry says excitedly. 'You think I'll be able to cry once my form has grown enough.'</p><p>Hermione closes her eyes and sighs. 'Yes,' she admits finally. Ron whoops, and she is immediately torn between smiling and chastising him. 'But Harry, we need to be careful about this! You get that, don't you? You can't just walk up to Professor Snape and hand him a vial of Phoenix tears! That'll raise all sorts of questions - and that's if they even work! You heard Neville, most Transfigured Potions ingredients don't even work!'</p><p>'But he said Animagi ingredients do!' Ron retorts cheerfully.</p><p>'No one has ever tested Transfigured Phoenix tears before!' Hermione says exasperatedly. 'No one's ever even been a Phoenix Animagus, except maybe <em>Merlin</em>!'</p><p>'Yeah well, nobody else has ever died and then come back before either, have they?' Harry asks with a grin.</p><p>'It's kind of ridiculous how many times you've nearly died,' Ron agrees.</p><p>'Yes, okay, you bull-headed idiots,' Hermione admits with fond frustration. 'Harry is a rather unique circumstance. But! But, we won't do <em>anything</em> until we've tested this out.'</p><p>'Okay, okay,' Ron says, holding his hands up in surrender.</p><p>'But we'll give Snape the tears when we've tested them out,' Harry interjects hopefully.</p><p>Hermione sighs again. '<em>Maybe</em>,' she says pointedly. '<em>If</em> it works out. Harry, you have to realise... if we give Professor Snape - or even Neville - your Phoenix tears, and they don't work... we'd be setting them up for false hope. It would <em>crush</em> them.'</p><p>Harry and Ron both pause.</p><p>Seeing that she's finally managed to get through to them and make them take this seriously, Hermione continues firmly, 'We'll wait a fortnight for Harry's Animagus form to mature. Then we'll test his tears out on a range of injuries and see what happens. <em>If</em> they manage to heal the injuries, and <em>if</em> the healing is permanent and doesn't spontaneously reverse itself, then - and only then - we can talk about giving them to someone else.'</p><p>Harry grins.</p><p>'Sounds good to me,' Ron says happily, dropping backwards onto his bed.</p><p>Hermione sighs again, but her lips quirk up. 'You two are incorrigible,' she mutters.</p><p>'You love me really,' Ron says unconcernedly, then freezes. The sudden reminder that Ron and Hermione are maybe-dating-maybe-not makes the atmosphere awkward.</p><p>'I should check my transformation, see how far along I am,' Harry blurts into the sudden silence.</p><p>'That's a good idea,' Hermione agrees quickly.</p><p>Steadying himself, Harry takes a moment to focus on his breathing, closing his eyes and reaching for that familiar golden glow in his chest. He still can't transform as quickly as Sirius had been able to, but he figures he'll get there with practice.</p><p>Harry tugs on his magic, pulling it over him, and between one heartbeat and the next he's shrinking down, down, down...</p><p>Harry chirps and stares up at Hermione. She suddenly seems very far away.</p><p>Hermione crouches down and reaches out for him. Harry wobbles over to her, his tiny wings flapping as he tries to keep his balance.</p><p>'Oh, you're so cute...' Hermione says as she scoops him up. Harry flails at the sudden upwards movement and falls onto his feathery butt. Hermione laughs. 'Sorry,' she apologises teasingly.</p><p>'You've got a couple more red and gold feathers, but you're still mostly grey,' Ron tells him as he walks over to inspect Harry's form.</p><p>'You still have a lot of downy feathers, too,' Hermione says, brushing a finger carefully over his soft plumage.</p><p>Harry chirps.</p><p>'Mate, I don't speak bird,' Ron snorts, scratching the top of his head gently.</p><p>'You're still weeks away from being an adult bird,' Hermione states. 'So we've got time to read up on Animagi and Transfigured Potions ingredients in the library.'</p><p>Ron groans. Harry ruffles his feathers and lets out a low croon.</p><p>Hermione rolls her eyes. 'Oh, honestly, you two. We have to be <em>careful</em>.'</p><p>'Alright,' Ron sighs heavily, like a man with many burdens.</p><p>'Do you mind if I pluck one of your feathers?' Hermione asks hesitantly after a moment. Harry squawks indignantly. Ron sniggers. 'I'll be careful!' Hermione says hurriedly. 'But we need to see if the feather stays the same even after you've turned back, and we also need to check that missing a feather doesn't hurt you somehow.'</p><p>'You mean he could transform back and be missing a bit of skin or something,' Ron realises, wrinkling his nose.</p><p>'Or a patch of hair,' Hermione adds, far too calmly for such a horrible thought.</p><p>Harry squeaks indignantly and tries to waddle away. He doesn't exactly have far to go, though, seeing as he's being held in Hermione's hands. He flaps his stubby little wings to demonstrate his vehement resistance to being bald.</p><p>'If you're missing anything when you turn back, we can spell it back,' Hermione promises. 'I know a good hair growth Charm.'</p><p><em>You are far too eager to try this and not nearly cautious enough</em>, Harry chirps huffily. <em>I</em> <em>don't want to be bald!</em> Of course, neither of them understand him.</p><p>'I think that was a yes,' Ron says sunnily. Harry pecks at him and misses.</p><p>'Please, Harry?' Hermione begs. 'We need to make sure it's safe to remove something from your Animagus form, and a feather should be relatively harmless.'</p><p>Harry sighs deeply but doesn't move when she tentatively reaches forwards and plucks one of his fluffy grey feathers.</p><p>Harry yelps at the sharp stinging sensation, fluffing up and flapping his wings before he settles again. Ron, the bastard, laughs. Hermione looks remorseful but far too amused for Harry's liking.</p><p>She sets him back down on the dorm floor and Harry toddles away, his skinny little legs tottering over the floor. When he's far enough away, he halts and then feels for his magic, pulling it away from his skin like a heavy, sentient cloak.</p><p>When he opens his eyes again, he's face-to-face with a curious Hermione.</p><p>'Did anything happen?' she demands, scanning over his body for any signs of injury. 'Are you hurt? Did you feel anything?'</p><p>The grey feather is still held between her fingers, unchanged.</p><p>Harry takes the feather, staring at it thoughtfully. It's fluffy and rather pretty, he thinks, and it's clearly from a young bird.</p><p>'The feather stayed the same,' he points out. 'I'm fine,' he adds, when Hermione continues scrutinising him.</p><p>When she continues to insist, Harry rolls his eyes and pulls up his shirt to reveal his perfectly healthy chest. Interestingly, there is a small bald patch where his chest hair has vanished, but he's not concerned. Ron snorts and proclaims it to be the funniest thing ever. Harry is rather bemused by his magical chest waxing.</p><p>Hermione glances disapprovingly at Ron, who is still laughing. 'Focus!' she chastises, leaning forwards to inspect Harry's chest. He'd feel self-conscious or awkward, except they've seen each other in far worse states than this over the years.</p><p>'You need to eat more,' Hermione tells him absently as she rakes her eyes over his torso.</p><p>Harry huffs a laugh. 'Thanks, mum,' he says sarcastically, and gets a sharp poke in the stomach in response.</p><p>'Well, you aren't maimed or dead,' Hermione concludes cheerfully, straightening up and taking a step back. 'I think we can tentatively call this a success.'</p><p>Harry smiles in amusement. 'Yeah, that sounds pretty good to me.'</p><p>'Now if you could just hurry your little charcoal chicken up and get through bird puberty, that'd be great,' Ron says, and gets a pillow tossed at him for his contribution.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A/N: Idk wtf the plural of Maledictus is, so instead of googling it like a rational person, I have decided to christen it "Maledicti" because it sounds cool.</p><p>:D</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Defence Against Seductive Arts</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A/N: istg, knowing when to capitalise stuff in HP is an absolute nightmare.</p><p>Also, Jenkins... Harry is so done with your shit lol.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tuesday begins with a two hour Herbology lesson in the morning. In their final NEWT year, all of their classes are doubles, so Harry and Ron grumble mildly but good-naturedly as they walk with Neville and Hermione to the greenhouses.</p><p>All four of them had received letters that morning, though of course Harry had managed to rake in twice as many as everyone else. They'd taken great delight in burning the lot, and Neville had gathered up the ashes to spread on some of the plants he was growing, since apparently ashes are good for the soil.</p><p>'Ashes contain nutrients the plants can use,' Neville explains happily, gathering the ashes into a Conjured bag with his wand. Harry nods along, vaguely remembering Aunt Petunia telling him something similar once.</p><p>'Vinegar's good too, right? For... rhododendrons, at least?'</p><p>'Yes!' Neville agrees enthusiastically, delighted to have someone to share his passion for plants with. 'Azaleas and hydrangeas like vinegar too...'</p><p>Their talk of flowers and gardening lasts all the way to Greenhouse Three, where Professor Sprout is waiting for them.</p><p>'Today we'll be revising Snargaluff pods, knotgrass, fluxweed and sneezewort. On Friday, we'll take a look at Venomous Tentacula, as well as Bouncing Bulbs and Mandrakes...'</p><p>Ron swears under his breath.</p><p>'...And once we've covered the main material from previous years, we'll be moving on to the seventh year material, including wolfsbane, Guatemalan shrivelfigs and how they differ from Abyssinian shrivelfigs, wiggentrees, sopophorous beans and various roots, including daisy, ginger and valerian. Now, I don't think I have to remind you of the important of your NEWTs, but...'</p><p>And so begins the lengthy talk on the importance of their NEWT exams.</p><p>This pattern is repeated in Transfiguration that afternoon, where Professor McGonagall briefly outlines the curriculum for the year before diving into the vital importance of good NEWT grades - and by "good" she clearly means Outstanding - and leaving Hermione with a slightly frenetic energy. Ron yawns and Harry doodles whilst Hermione nods along fervently to McGonagall's speech about career prospects, academic achievement and personal pride. By the time it's finished, Harry has managed to draw a fairly accurate representation of Ron getting eaten by a Snargaluff pod, and Hermione has already made rough notes for revision plans spanning the entire school year.</p><p>'I'm not revising in September!' Ron exclaims in quiet outrage once Professor McGonagall has set them all to practicing the sixth year material. 'I'll die!'</p><p>'Then when <em>are</em> you going to revise?' Hermione asks archly. 'You can't possibly be planning to leave it all until Christmas!'</p><p>Harry decides not to mention that he and Ron are probably going to be leaving it all until Easter.</p><p>'I'll start revising in, I dunno... March?' Ron says carelessly, and Hermione nearly has a conniption.</p><p>'Weren't you listening!?' she hisses, enraged. 'This is the most important year of our academic career, and-'</p><p>'"Academic career",' Ron snorts.</p><p>Hermione looks ready to hit him. 'Don't come complaining to <em>me</em> when you fail every exam!' she snaps, before turning away pointedly and beginning to practice her human Transfiguration in one of the handheld mirrors McGonagall has provided.</p><p>'Why's McGonagall still teaching us? I thought the Headmistress didn't teach,' Harry asks Ron as he attempts to change his hair colour from black to blond.</p><p>Ron shrugs. 'Percy said it's because they couldn't get anybody good enough to teach the class, and after what happened with Umbridge McGonagall refused to let some Ministry idiot come in and teach us. So instead McGonagall's doing two jobs at once, and apparently she's considering having another Deputy besides Flitwick - either Vector or Sinistra.'</p><p>Harry raises his eyebrows in surprise. He hadn't realised Professor McGonagall would be under so much pressure.</p><p>Before their conversation can continue any further, McGonagall begins walking up and down the rows, inspecting their Transfiguration work. Harry and Ron hurriedly return to Transfiguring themselves, attempting to cast the spells silently after McGonagall reminds them all that they will be required to complete their spells wordlessly during their NEWT practical exam.</p><p>'Mr Potter, what happened to your hands?' Professor McGonagall asks when she reaches their row.</p><p>Harry halts in his silent chanting of <em>Crinus Muto</em> to glance down at his hands in surprise.</p><p>'Oh, they're fine, Professor,' Harry replies, inspecting his fingers, the backs of which are all bruised. His knuckles are a lovely red-purple. 'I just bashed them a bit, yesterday.'</p><p>'Might I remind you, Mr Potter, that I have eyes,' Professor McGonagall says crisply. 'I expect you to pay a visit to Madam Pomfrey after class.'</p><p>'Yes, Professor,' Harry says with a sigh, turning back to his mirror.</p><p>Harry forgets all about any trips to the hospital wing when he leaves class two hours later and discovers a small mob waiting for him outside the door. A girl steps forwards from the gathering crowd nervously, and Harry wonders where he's seen her before. He thinks she might be in some of Ginny's classes. Maybe.</p><p>Behind him, Ron groans. 'Not <em>again</em>,' he mutters.</p><p>'Excuse me!' Hermione says bossily, attempting to shoo the crowd away, but only the youngest students obey her and shuffle backwards. The rest ignore her in favour of watching the drama unfold before them.</p><p>'I was hoping...' the girl begins, tugging on her jumper sleeve, 'that you would accept my offer of friendship, and, um, declaration of intent...'</p><p>Harry remembers Professor McGonagall's words to him about handling the Festival with polite integrity and tries not to let his irritation show on his face. He doesn't want to humiliate the poor girl, annoying as she is - he just wishes they'd all <em>go away</em> and leave him in peace.</p><p>'Look, I appreciate the offer, but... maybe try asking someone else?' Harry says awkwardly, hoping the girl isn't about to burst into tears.</p><p>Someone else shoves forwards and scowls at Harry. 'Why not?' she demands contemptuously. She must be The Friend. Fantastic.</p><p>'Harry doesn't have to go out with anyone he doesn't want to,' Hermione says hotly. 'He doesn't owe you or your friends anything.'</p><p>'Yeah, now shove off and leave him alone,' Ron adds, crossing his arms and glaring at them.</p><p>'What's wrong with Matilda?' The Friend demands, planting a hand on her hip. Matilda looks close to tears. Great. 'She's nice, pretty and her dad owns an apothecary-'</p><p>'Harry doesn't owe you an explanation!' Hermione interrupts. 'He said no, so accept it and move on!'</p><p>'Can't he speak for himself?' The Friend challenges.</p><p>Ron snorts. 'That's rich, coming from <em>you</em>.'</p><p>'Look,' Harry interjects before a fight can kick off. 'Thanks for the offer, but I'm not interested, alright?' He turns to Ron and Hermione and jerks his head down the corridor, in the opposite direction of Matilda and the watching crowd. 'Come on, let's go.'</p><p>They turn to leave, but apparently Matilda's Friend isn't done with them quite yet. 'So it's true, then? You're really gay?' she demands loudly.</p><p>'Mind your own business!' Ron yells back at her. 'Merlin, what a cow,' he mutters under his breath.</p><p>Not two minutes later, another gaggle of girls materialises in the corridor in front of them. Once he notices that they've all put a lot of effort into their appearance and realises what they must be here for, Harry sighs and curses silently.</p><p>'Mate, I love you and all, but next time you're bringing the Cloak,' Ron whispers sarcastically. Harry smiles slightly.</p><p>'We could always use this as an opportunity to practice our Notice-Me-Not and Disillusionment Charms,' Hermione says practically.</p><p>'We're not supposed to use magic in the corridors,' Harry points out innocently.</p><p>'Oh, like you've ever cared about the rules, Harry James Potter,' Hermione scoffs, laughing at him.</p><p>Harry grins cheekily at her. 'Yeah, there's a reason I didn't get prefect,' he says unrepentantly. When Hermione smiles and looks away, he scrutinises her expression for a moment, making sure the joke hadn't upset her.</p><p>Hermione had missed out on her chance for Head Girl, and whilst she'd claimed that she didn't mind and it would be unfair to steal it from the seventh years, Harry knows that the loss had been yet another thing the war had taken from her. Perhaps to someone like him, it wouldn't have mattered, but to ambitious, brilliant Hermione, who had worked so hard for so long, it was still a small sore point.</p><p>She's mostly gotten over it, of course, and Harry's sure she'll tell anyone who asks (and herself) that it just means more time to revise for her NEWTs - but dreams are always precious to the people who hold them, and Hermione had been forced to give up one of hers. Losing dreams is never easy, and Harry hopes his best friend finds something else to make her equally as happy and proud as a shiny golden badge would have.</p><p>The group of girls in front of them finally reaches them, spreading out and blocking the corridor - whether or not the move is intentional, Harry doesn't know and doesn't care. He just wants to get past them.</p><p>'Excuse me, please let us past,' Hermione says with frosty politeness. The group ignores her.</p><p>A tall girl steps forwards, curly blonde hair falling in ringlets to halfway down her torso. She looks vaguely familiar, and Harry places her a moment later - she was one of the students watching him fight off owls and the flaming Love Howler in the Entrance Hall.</p><p><em>Not this again</em>.</p><p>'Hi, Harry. My name is Priscilla Vexsworth. I was hoping I could speak to you for a moment?'</p><p>Harry resists the urge to sigh. 'Is this about the Festival?' he asks warily.</p><p>Priscilla smiles at him, revealing twin dimples. 'Yes!' She laughs lightly. 'I've got a very special letter here for you...' She reaches into her bag and pulls out a pale pink envelope, holding it out to Harry expectantly.</p><p>Harry doesn't take it. 'Look, if this is another declaration of intent, I'm very flattered but I'm going to have to decline,' he says firmly.</p><p>Priscilla frowns. 'But you haven't even read it!'</p><p>'I don't have to,' Harry says drily before he can stop himself.</p><p>'What's that supposed to mean!?' Priscilla demands, insulted. 'Are you calling me <em>ugly</em>!?'</p><p>'Don't put words in his mouth,' Hermione snaps. 'Harry never called you that, or said anything about how you look.'</p><p>Realising just how bad this is about to get, Harry hurries to cut off Priscilla's indignant rant before it can begin. 'This isn't about that. You look very nice,' he says quickly. Ron snorts beside him, no doubt amused by Harry's pathetic compliment, but Priscilla takes it as a slight against her appearance and glares at them in outrage.</p><p>'How <em>dare</em> you-!'</p><p>'Look, Vexsworth, I don't want to date somebody I don't know,' Harry says bluntly, trying to end the conversation as quickly as possible. 'So thanks, but no thanks.'</p><p>'That's what the courting is for!' Priscilla exclaims angrily. 'So we can get to know each other better!'</p><p>'Well, look-' Harry flounders, struggling to find something banal to say that can get him out of this mess.</p><p>'Why won't you just give me a chance!?' Priscilla demands. 'You haven't even read my letter!' A calculating look comes over her face. 'Is there someone else? It's Weasley, isn't it?'</p><p>Harry isn't about to drag Ginny into this disaster - especially since they parted on awkward but friendly terms - but his denial seems to fall on deaf ears.</p><p>'No, there isn't anybody, I just don't want to date you,' he says, but he might as well have not bothered. He can already tell Priscilla doesn't believe him. He wants to groan. 'Look, if I take your letter, will you leave?'</p><p>Apparently that was the wrong thing to say, because Priscilla's mouth drops open slightly and a murderous look comes over her face.</p><p>'You are the rudest, most insulting person I've ever met!' Priscilla declares furiously. 'Clearly the fame has gone to your massive, swollen head! Can you even see past your massive ego? Is that what the ugly glasses are for?'</p><p>'Piss off, you stupid cow!' Ron retorts indignantly, leaping to Harry's defence.</p><p>Harry feels himself losing the last of his limited patience. 'Maybe this will teach you not to make assumptions about people you've never met,' he bites out. 'And for the record? I couldn't care less what you look like. The reason I don't want to go anywhere near you is because you stood there and did nothing when I was getting mobbed by owls and a bloody burning Howler in the Entrance Hall. Fat lot of help you were.'</p><p>'What?!' she splutters. 'But you're the Chosen One!'</p><p>'And what? That's supposed to mean I never need any help?' Harry demands incredulously. Vexsworth gives him a look that clearly says, <em>Well obviously.</em></p><p>'Has it ever occurred to you,' Harry bites out, 'that I'm just another person, and I need help<br/>
sometimes too just like everybody else, and that maybe I want to find my equal, not my <em>inferior</em>?'</p><p>He glares at her and then turns away.</p><p>'Well said, Harry!' George hollers from further down the corridor. Fred wolf whistles. Harry gives them the finger and keeps walking. Behind him, he can hear Hermione and Ron hurrying after him.</p><p>'MAKE WAY!' George yells down the crowded corridor. 'SEX GOD COMING THROUGH!'</p><p>'SHUT IT, WEASLEY, YOU'RE JUST JEALOUS!' Harry yells back, and ducks into the first secret passage way he finds. He can hear the Weasley twins' laughter echoing behind him.</p><p>• • • • • •</p><p>That evening, once they've finished their homework in the library and Hermione has forced them to do a forty five minute review for Potions, Transfiguration and Herbology, Ron pulls out his timetable to check what they have for tomorrow's classes and Harry realises that he never told his friends about the fiasco with Jenkins.</p><p>'Oh, great, we've got Defence in the morning!' Ron says exuberantly. 'Potions in the afternoon, though,' he says less enthusiastically. 'D'you reckon Snape's still in the hospital wing?'</p><p>'Hopefully not, I'd hate to fall behind,' Hermione says, frowning. 'And of course I want him to make a speedy recovery,' she adds hurriedly.</p><p>Harry looks down to hide his smile. Hermione catches it anyway.</p><p>'Oh, stop it!' she chastises him, slightly flustered. 'You know I didn't mean it like that!'</p><p>'Really?' Harry asks innocently. He grins when she smacks him lightly.</p><p>I still haven't found a definitive test for water,' Hermione says anxiously, glancing to the Potions section of the library. 'I know Muggles have one, but it's not perfect and I don't know if Muggle techniques are accepted on the exams...'</p><p>The reminder that Harry knows something about the vial contents that Hermione doesn't makes him grin, but then he realises that they have Defence in the morning and his smug happiness falls away.</p><p>'D'you think Madam Pomfrey'll fall for one of Fred and George's Skiving Snacks?' Harry asks mournfully, slumping back in his seat.</p><p>'No,' Hermione says flatly, killing any last dregs of hope he still has that tomorrow might go well for him. 'Why?'</p><p>'I met the new DADA Professor, I can't believe I forgot to tell you... she's absolutely awful.'</p><p>'Why? What happened?' Ron looks away from his timetable to stare at Harry in concern. Hermione stops gazing at the Potions shelves and fixes Harry with a focused, worried gaze.</p><p>'She tried to ask me out!' Harry says, still unable to believe the entire thing had even happened. 'And when I turned her down, she tried to ask me out again a few days later, and got angry when I said no-'</p><p>'Are teachers even allowed to have relationships with their students?!' Hermione asks, looking scandalised.</p><p>'Apparently,' Harry says resentfully. 'She even gave me detention! And she thought I was shagging Snape! Or he was shagging me!'</p><p>Ron lets out a choked noise and turns bright red.</p><p>'<em>Exactly</em>,' says Harry, with great feeling. 'I can't believe she gave me detention for refusing to go out with her,' he adds moodily.</p><p>Ron stares at him.</p><p>'What?' Harry asks blankly.</p><p>'<em>Snape</em>,' Ron croaks.</p><p>'Well, you know what they say,' Hermione says lightly after she's recovered from her shock. 'There's a fine line between love and hate...'</p><p>Harry returns her teasing smile with a glare. 'No way. Snape <em>hates</em> me,' he says flatly. Against his will, Harry's mind flashes back to the words Snape had slurred in the hospital wing. But he hadn't meant any of them, right? He'd been high as a kite on Healing potions, after all.</p><p>Plus, he'd never actually said that he doesn't hate Harry.</p><p>'A very fine line...' Hermione repeats, dissolving into laughter when Harry chucks a crumpled up ball of parchment at her.</p><p>They're lucky there's nobody else in the library - apparently no one else is mad enough to be revising on the second day back until eight o'clock at night - or they'd have been kicked out by Madam Pince by now.</p><p>'So tomorrow's going to suck, then,' Ron says gloomily, eyeballing his timetable with distaste. 'A double with some bint that's got the hots for Harry, and then a double with the bat that's got enough hatred for Harry to boil him alive. Great.'</p><p>'Don't call Professor Snape a bat, Ron,' Hermione says crossly. 'He risked his life to spy on Voldemort for Dumbledore, and apparently got <em>tortured</em> for it.'</p><p>'And he did put himself between us and a transformed werewolf once, and helped us during the war,' Harry points out with a sigh. 'And he gave Hermione points in class yesterday.' His mind flickers back to slurred words in the hospital wing, and a rush of warmth at the top of a cold Tower. 'I think he's changed,' Harry adds hesitantly. 'Even if he is still a bit of a git.'</p><p>Hermione chimes in with her agreement. 'We've <em>all</em> changed,' she says decisively. 'And people deserve second chances. <em>Especially</em> people that saved our lives.'</p><p>Ron groans but resigns himself to the inevitable. 'I can't believe we're defending <em>Snape</em> now,' he mutters. 'What has the world come to?'</p><p>'It's a new world, Ronald,' Hermione declares, standing from her chair, 'and you'd best just get used to it. Now, which textbook do you think will have tests for water? I already checked Borage's <em>Advanced Potion Making</em>...'</p><p>• • • • • •</p><p>Things take a turn for the truly bizarre on Wednesday morning, when a letter arrives amongst another flurry for Harry from -</p><p>'<em>Westley Ridgeback</em>,' Ron breathes reverently, shell-shocked into a strange sort of stupor where he is incapable of removing his eyes from the letter clutched tightly in his hands. He might be trembling slightly. 'Westley Ridgeback, Harry! This is - He's - <em>Westley Ridgeback</em>.'</p><p>'Who?' Harry asks blankly.</p><p>Ron finally manages to tear his eyes from the parchment, if only to bestow upon Harry the most horrified expression he possibly can. 'Westley Ridgeback,' Ron repeats, as if Harry didn't get it the first time... or the second. Or the third. 'He's only <em>one of the best Quidditch players in Britain!</em>'</p><p>Harry blinks. <em>Well</em>, he thinks with a sort of detached casualness, <em>at least it's only Britain</em>.</p><p>'Westley Ridgeback!?!' an indignant voice cries from further down the table. Harry has long ago stopped being surprised that the entirety of Gryffindor seems to regularly eavesdrop on all of his mealtime conversations. 'He's the best in the world!'</p><p>'The best <em>ever</em>,' another voice agrees fervently.</p><p>Someone produces a book titled <em>Top Quidditch Players of the 1980s</em>, and soon Harry is staring at page 57, from which a ridiculously handsome young man grins back at him, and then winks outrageously.</p><p>Someone swoons.</p><p><em>Well then.</em> Harry thinks, and then doesn't really have any more thoughts after that for several stunned seconds.</p><p>'He's so hot,' a girl nearby murmurs, and soon half the table is agreeing with her in worshipful tones.</p><p>Ron, looking disgruntled at the turn the conversation has taken, quickly launches into a detailed overview of Ridgeback's career, including his best plays and all the teams he has been on. Whether or not this is actually for Harry's benefit is not entirely clear.</p><p>'...He's played for Wales <em>and</em> England on their national teams, since he's got family from both and he lived all over the place during his childhood,' Ron informs Harry ten minutes later as he finishes off his toast. 'He started off playing Chaser, but he played Seeker during the 1988 and 1993 national games against Romania and Chile, and in 1994 he caught the Snitch and won England the game against Norway by only ten points, and in 1996...'</p><p>Dazed and not entirely sure whether he feels numb or brutally Bludgered, Harry nods along to Ron's recounting of Wales' match against Botswana where Ridgeback had accidentally been hit by an opposing Beater's bat and nearly been knocked clean off his broom - 'He was upside down in the air, bleeding and hanging on by his ankles!' - and distantly wonders when exactly his life had gotten so surreal.</p><p>Or if it was ever <em>not</em> surreal.</p><p>• • • • • •</p><p>The first Defence Against the Dark Arts class goes exactly as badly as Harry expects it to.</p><p>Jenkins - and she really is their teacher, Merlin help him - spends the first five minutes introducing herself and her subject. She sends Harry several long, lingering glances as she talks, and when she's in the middle of blathering about how dangerous magic can be and why they need to learn to protect themselves from it (<em>as if they don't already know!</em>), she looks directly at Harry and says:</p><p>'The Dark Arts are very dangerous, although they can also be quite... <em>seductive</em>.'</p><p>Ron coughs into his hand, barely hiding his laugh.</p><p>Jenkins also pauses for a painfully long time on Harry's name when she calls the role, and refers to him by his first name but everyone else their last. The favouritism is so blatantly on the nose that Harry genuinely begins to question if she's been jinxed, or if Jenkins really thinks he's that stupid.</p><p>He decides he doesn't want to know the answer to that question.</p><p>Once Jenkins has finished wasting time talking about how the Dark Arts are going to seduce them all - but mainly Harry, of course - she moves on to what she's actually supposed to be talking about: the curriculum. Instead of starting to actually teach them anything, however, she announces that they're going to spend the class reviewing what they've all learned so far... and then asks Harry to come up to the front.</p><p>'To demonstrate the spells,' Jenkins says sweetly, smiling at him.</p><p>Harry considers simply refusing to get up.</p><p>Eventually he decides that he doesn't want another detention and reluctantly drags his sorry self to the front of the class. He's expecting to have to cast one or two spells and then being able to return to his seat, but instead Jenkins keeps him at the front of the room for a solid forty minutes, asking him to demonstrate everything from a Stunner to a Shield Charm to "your most famous move, Harry!" the Disarming Charm.</p><p>And throughout the entire spectacle, there is a never-ending string of increasingly ridiculous compliments and admirations. Harry is "impressive" and "powerful" and even manages to be "the best in the entire school!" at one point.</p><p>It's painfully embarrassing.</p><p>When she reaches the Patronus Charm, Harry has lost all of his patience and any semblance of hope that he'll be getting out of this charade any time soon. He's also not in the mood to reveal that his Patronus is corporeal, because whilst some of the class is already aware, Jenkins apparently isn't and Harry intends to keep it that way; he can only imagine what drivel would come out of her mouth if she found out.</p><p>'And the Patronus Charm, Harry?' Jenkins says expectantly, smiling at him. Harry considers demonstrating the next offensive spell by casting it on <em>her</em>.</p><p>'Hermione is better at that one,' Harry lies through gritted teeth. 'Her Patronus is corporeal.'</p><p>Jenkins falters. 'Oh, there's no need to be shy! We all know you're a humble hero, Harry!' She laughs and pats him on the shoulder.</p><p>Harry stares at her. Jenkins' laughter peters out and the classroom fills with awkward silence.</p><p>'Hermione can do it,' Harry says forcefully, not giving Jenkins a choice as he stomps back to his seat. He almost feels bad about dropping Hermione in it, except that at least she'll be safe from Jenkins' atrocious flirting... or whatever the hell this is supposed to be.</p><p>Hermione demonstrates the next few spells, her corporeal otter Patronus racing around the classroom before settling beside Harry and nuzzling him comfortingly. The faint warmth and encouraging happiness and peace of the spell helps to lift Harry's mood a little, and he smiles at Hermione gratefully.</p><p>Jenkins scowls at Hermione and tells her to sit back down.</p><p>Once the awful class is finally over, Harry races for the door, clenching his jaw when Jenkins calls out a loud reminder that he has detention with her that evening. Out in the relative safety of the corridor, Harry turns to his best friends, barely able to contain his anger.</p><p>Thankfully, he's not the only one up in arms about their sham of a lesson.</p><p>'I'm telling you,' Ron says heatedly, 'the only thing that woman is defending against is her own intelligence.'</p><p>'If she even has any,' Harry mutters moodily.</p><p>'Well,' Hermione says, struggling to find some optimism, 'at least we only have her twice a week-'</p><p>'<em>Only!</em>' Ron exclaims.</p><p>'Plus all the detentions she's going to be landing me in,' Harry cuts in angrily. 'I'll probably be seeing her every night of the week.' He scowls. 'It's like Umbridge all over again.'</p><p>'I'll come with you, mate,' Ron promises earnestly. 'We can hex her every time her back's turned.'</p><p>'<em>Ron!</em>' Hermione cries out, scandalised.</p><p>Harry laughs. 'Thanks,' he says gratefully, even though he has no intention of carrying out Ron's brazen plan.</p><p>Ron grins at him, and soon the injustice and disgust of Jenkins' horrible presence is forgotten.</p><p>It doesn't stay that way, of course - but the reprieve is nice while it lasts.</p><p>• • • • • •</p><p>Potions that afternoon is a return to normality, thankfully. Snape, now recovered, stands at the front of the class and waits for them all to be seated before he speaks.</p><p>'As you are all now aware, there will be no spellcasting of any kind in this classroom,' he says emotionlessly, as if they hadn't witnessed him having a seizure two days before.</p><p>And that's it. No thanks, no apology, no explanation, no screaming at Samuels and Hermione for nearly accidentally killing him - Snape simply picks up his chalk and underlines the title of his lecture - which is on the potency of wolfsbane depending on which phase of the moon it is planted and picked during, and which is preferable for certain potions - and then begins to talk. His voice becomes raspy within half an hour of speaking, and by the end of his hour lecture, he's sipping at a glass of water and his voice is rough and cracked.</p><p>'You will now write me an essay on how the phase of the moon influences the growth and harvest of wolfsbane, and the ideal conditions for ingredients for the Wolfsbane Potion,' Snape instructs them. 'Use your textbooks to provide additional notes, pages 134-142. Anyone who does not finish within the next hour will be completing the essay for homework, due next Monday. I expect no less than eight inches. Anything less than six will be burned.'</p><p>There is silence for the next half hour apart from the rustling of turning pages and the scrawling of quill nibs on parchment. Not even Hermione dares to ask about the vials and what had been in them. Harry's hand soon begins cramping from all of the writing, and it doesn't help that his bruised, slightly swollen fingers are beginning to ache. He suddenly wishes he'd followed Professor McGonagall's advice and gone to the hospital wing. He would empty his bank vault for a bowl of Murtlap Essence or even Dittany right about now.</p><p>Snape, of course, notices Harry struggling to write with his injured hand as he is patrolling the aisles. He stops, staring down at Harry's messy writing and red-purple fingers and knuckles.</p><p>'Fighting in the corridors, Potter? Got into a brawl with another student, did you?' he drawls, unimpressed.</p><p>Harry wants to ask why Snape's first assumption is automatically that Harry must have broken school rules, but then he realises that he probably doesn't have much of a leg to stand on in that regard, and that Snape obviously doesn't remember any of what happened in the classroom on Monday. He doesn't know that Harry used his hands to protect Snape's head from bashing against the stone floor, and got himself bashed and bruised for the bother.</p><p>'No, sir,' Harry says quietly, keeping his gaze fixed on his essay. Part of him wants to shout that his hands are bruised because he stopped Snape from cracking his own skull open, but the bigger part of him realises that Snape will probably find any public mention of his seizure humiliating, so he bites the words back.</p><p>Ron has no such concerns or hesitations.</p><p>'Harry bruised his hands protecting your head while you were thrashing about!' Ron says stoutly, glaring at Snape defiantly for daring to cast aspersions on Harry's name and honour. 'You kept trying to hit your head off the floor, but Harry stopped you, and he got hurt instead. He wasn't fighting anybody!'</p><p>Snape stands, frozen, for a horrible moment where nobody dares even breathe. Then he says with icy calmness, 'I see.'</p><p>Harry closes his eyes, tenses up and waits for Ron's verbal execution. And possibly his own.</p><p>'Thank you, Mr Weasley, for your timely and delicate explanation.' Harry winces. Ron hadn't exactly worded it in the most diplomatic or considerate manner. 'And Mr Potter,' Harry freezes. 'You will find the ingredients necessary to heal your injuries in the store. I trust you can make a basic remedy by now without constant supervision?'</p><p>Harry nods dumbly. Is this... is this Snape's way of <em>thanking</em> him? He dares to glance up at his professor; the Potions Master stares back impassively before he whirls around and stalks away.</p><p>Twenty minutes later, Harry's hands are wrapped in bandages soaked in Murtlap Essence and the aching in his hands has finally stopped. He smiles, and doesn't even care when his essay isn't finished before class ends.</p><p>• • • • • •</p><p>By dinnertime what seems like the entire school knows that Harry has received a letter from <em>The</em> Westley Ridgeback. Even Muggleborns who Harry knows for a fact have absolutely no interest in Quidditch and know no more about Ridgeback then he did this morning are shooting Harry jealous looks in the hallway and envious side-eyeing in class.</p><p>Frankly, Harry thinks that they can have him, because he's about as interested in some random Quidditch player as he is shredded shrivelfigs.</p><p>Even if said Quidditch player is rather good looking.</p><p>But that's not the <em>point</em>. Harry doesn't want someone that's only ever going to see him as "The Boy Who Lived", "The Saviour" or "The Chosen One". He knows for a fact that Ridgeback would never have sent his letter if Harry wasn't infamous for defeating a Dark Lord twice, and as flattering as it is to be receiving attention from someone so well known and admired, the novelty quickly wears off.</p><p>These people, who are promising Harry all sorts of ridiculous things - including gold, notoriety and sex, two of which he already has plenty of - don't know him at all. If they did, they'd have promised him treacle tart and perhaps a friendly game of Quidditch - and they <em>certainly</em> wouldn't be inviting him to all sorts of balls and important Ministerial functions. The Yule Ball was a disaster Harry is not keen to repeat, and he's even less keen to be the eye candy or claim to fame for some wealthy stranger that's promised him jewels or friends in high places.</p><p>Harry doesn't want or need friends in high places. He's already got the best friends he could possibly have, right here with him.</p><p>Harry doesn't want fame, he wants a family; anyone who doesn't get that isn't worth his time.</p><p>• • • • • •</p><p>Detention with Jenkins manages to be even worse than Harry's lesson with her.</p><p>Apparently Jenkins has realised that giving Harry the chance to show off in class isn't the way to win him over - and how naïve and arrogant does she think he is? <em>Seriously</em> - because she changes tactics that evening.</p><p>When Harry walks through the door at seven o'clock, the classroom has been cleared. All of the desks and chairs are stacked along the walls, and Jenkins is waiting expectantly in the middle of the empty space she's created.</p><p>'Good evening, Harry,' she welcomes him, as if he's a friend visiting by choice and not a student forced here because of detention. 'I thought we could spend some time practicing your duelling techniques.'</p><p>Harry is almost hopeful for a second that he might actually get something out of the next two hours. Then he realises that Jenkins is wearing the most tight-fitting duelling robes he's ever seen, and all hope goes flying out the window and falls to a sudden, brutal death.</p><p>'Right,' Harry says doubtfully, dropping his bag by the door and pulling his wand from the sheath on his left forearm Hermione had gotten him for his eighteenth birthday.</p><p>'Take off your outer robes,' Jenkins instructs. 'They'll only get in your way.'</p><p>Harry hesitates before complying. She has a point, even if he seriously doubts the motivation behind it.</p><p>Once they've assumed the traditional defensive stances, Jenkins begins the duel with a flash of red light. Immediately, she's on the attack, sending a string of offensive spells hurtling towards him. Harry is forced into casting defensive spells, Shielding and countering all of the spells she throws his way. None of them are lethal, and most can be stopped with a Shield Charm or well-known counterspell, but for a few spells that Harry doesn't recognise and can't block he is forced to dodge to the side or retreat to avoid harm.</p><p>Soon, Harry's blood is pumping and his body is alight with adrenaline as he duels with Jenkins. She's good, he can admit that much, and soon the classroom is warming up with the heat of excessive magic, and the floor and walls around them are charred and smoking from missed or parried spells.</p><p>They fight for several minutes, Harry managing to throw some offensive spells of his own when Jenkins is forced to momentarily halt her attack to Shield against several returned spells she'd sent at him. Sending spells bouncing back is harder than simply blocking them, but Harry wasn't slacking over the summer or the year before and it shows in his confident knockbacks of several of Jenkins' nastier hexes.</p><p>Eventually, though, Jenkins begins to close in on him. Despite Harry's best efforts, he's had a rather patchy Defence education and Jenkins has clearly been taught well. She's also older and probably more experienced when it comes to the range of spells she knows - there are several she casts that Harry doesn't recognise at all.</p><p>Harry isn't about to simply give in, however, and he fights tooth and nail to halt her advance. He manages to scratch her face with an <em>Avis-Oppugno</em> combo inspired by Hermione, and a lucky <em>Diffindo</em> catches Jenkins' arm and tears her sleeve, but he's not making any significant dents in her defences, and the knowledge that she's winning grates heavily on him.</p><p>He wants to beat her. He wants to be better. But he can't, and he isn't. Not yet, at least.</p><p>By the ten minute mark, Jenkins has him cornered at one end of the classroom. A minute later, she Disarms him from less than two feet away, jumping forwards to catch his wand.</p><p>She's standing less than a foot away from him, wand pointed at his vulnerable chest, face triumphant.</p><p>They're both sweating and panting, and adrenaline is still rushing through Harry's veins. He struggles to calm his breathing down, but abandons all attempts to focus on his inhales and exhales when Jenkins steps even closer.</p><p>She's watching him with dark eyes.</p><p>Harry immediately tries to take a step back, but he can't - he's backed up against stacked chairs and desks. For a wild second he considers trying to climb them in an effort to get away.</p><p>'Can I go now?' Harry asks when Jenkins makes no move to step away.</p><p>She stares at him for a second before replying. 'Of course not, you haven't even been here for an hour yet,' she chastises him, but she thankfully takes a step back and turns to walk back into the middle of the classroom.</p><p>Harry follows her warily, keeping several feet of space between them.</p><p>He doesn't know why he bothers, honestly.</p><p>'You need to work on your wand and arm movements,' Jenkins tells him. 'Stand here, in the initial duelling defensive position.' She points expectantly at the space beside her.</p><p>Harry reluctantly obeys, standing in the indicated place, adjusting his stance and raising his arms.</p><p>Jenkins' hands appear on his biceps, moving his arms fractionally and adjusting his position. She's suddenly far too close to him for his liking. 'Your elbow is too high up,' she tells him, moving it down. 'And your aim is slightly wide.' Her hand wraps around his right wrist, her forearm plastered against his as she moves his hand slightly to the left. Their hips brush.</p><p>Harry wants to point out that she can't know his aim is wide when he's not even holding his wand. He opens his mouth to ask for his wand back when Jenkins' hand suddenly lands on his shoulder. She's so close he can actually feel her body heat.</p><p>'You're too tense,' she says lowly, kneading her bony fingers into the muscle of his back. 'Relax, Harry.'</p><p>Harry abruptly yanks himself out of her hold, stepping away so that she can't reach him.</p><p>Jenkins blinks at him. 'What's wrong?'</p><p>Harry glares at her. He can't <em>prove</em> anything - but this feels wrong. It isn't right. This can't be right. She's giving him all sorts of bad feelings, and Harry is inclined to trust his instincts. Particularly around suspicious Defence professors.</p><p>When Jenkins steps towards him, Harry says nothing, his mind racing. She technically hasn't done anything (<em>yet</em>, his traitorous mind whispers), and she could probably argue that she's simply correcting his posture. They're both adults, she'll say - <em>surely it was obvious I was only trying to help?</em></p><p>Harry clenches his fists.</p><p>'Now, hold out your arm again,' Jenkins instructs, continuing as if there hadn't been an interruption. Harry hesitates for several seconds before he complies. He keeps his eyes fixed on Jenkins, watching her every move as she flexes his wrist slightly and crooks his elbow.</p><p>When her hand slides up his bicep to raise his arm, he grits his teeth. When her fingers stray to his chest, brushing over his upper torso and pressing lightly against his pectoral muscle, Harry reacts without thinking.</p><p>A pulse of instinctive, wandless magic surges out of him and shoves Jenkins back, much like it had when he'd fought off the parliament of angry owls. The wave of wordless magic dissipates quickly, leaving Harry shaking with anger and pent-up nerves.</p><p>Jenkins staggers, barely managing to keep her balance and remain upright. 'Harry?!' she asks, shocked.</p><p>'Don't touch me,' Harry snaps. He flicks his hand out and silently <em>commands</em>, and his wand is Summoned back into his palm in a flash. Relief floods through him.</p><p>'Harry, what are you talking about? I was only helping you-' Jenkins begins, and Harry can already see it: the denial, the innocence; the earnest promises that she didn't do anything wrong.</p><p>'Don't touch me ever again, and don't call me Harry,' he bites out furiously. 'Just leave me <em>alone</em>.'</p><p>He storms out without waiting for her reply.</p><p> </p><p>| | | | | | | | | |</p><p> </p><p>A/N: I always thought Harry should've had a teacher who blatantly favoured him (Dumbledore doesn't count because he also got Harry traumatised and killed l o l) because he's the boy wonder etc etc. Like, can you imagine how your teachers would react if you had someone like Shawn Mendes or Bill Gates in your class? <em>There would be favouritism!!</em> I mean ffs, some of my old teachers used to favour a girl that was really good at <em>singing</em> - imagine how bad they'd be if the kid that saved all their lives (twice!) was in the class! It'd be a bloody disgrace!</p><p>I realise Jenkins' behaviour probably comes across as really cliché, but I'd like to make it clear now: <b>there will be NO non-con or attempted rape in this fic</b>, or anything like that. Jenkins is merely my response to a lot of the tropes that tend to float around in fanfiction and even some Teen/YA novels, particularly things like "one minute they're training in fighting techniques, the next they're groping", "brushing against each other in a confined space", "hot older teacher eyeing up younger student" etc etc. A lot of these are super common and imo are SUPER NOT GOOD. Like, at <em>all</em>. And I sometimes worry that younger readers will think behaviour like that is normal.</p><p>Lemme just be clear for a sec: IT'S NOT NORMAL. Jenkins is my way of showing how creepy this shit actually is.</p><p>Also, <em>guys can be sexually harassed/assaulted too.</em></p><p>A n y w a y</p><p>Ron being a Good Friend warms my cold, dead heart, so you can all fite me because I will bash him the day I die!</p><p>He's not perfect, but he tries, and that's what counts!</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Defiance, Compliance and a Rebellious Alliance</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A/N: there are some really dodgy tropes that are super popular in fanfic - including the "older, authoritative character purposely brushes up against younger character in an obviously sexual way, usually in an enclosed space" I sort of briefly touched on last chapter. Because we usually ship them, it's hot. Irl, that's just creepy af. So this chapter is kind of my response to that.</p><p>Also, ya boi Harry's got Issues. Don't even try to tell me he doesn't. Dude literally died, there's no way he's okay x</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry sighs into his porridge and thinks about murdering it. He's not sure how exactly one would go about murdering porridge, inanimate breakfast cereal that it is, but with the foul mood that he's in, he thinks he could manage it.</p><p>His desire for murder only increases when the post arrives.</p><p><em>Bloody murder</em>, Harry thinks mutinously as he stabs viciously at another love letter with a jam-stained knife.</p><p>He's still angry about what happened with Jenkins the night before. When he'd told Ron and Hermione a simplified version of events of the detention and his subsequent charge out the door, they'd been ready to storm the Headmistress' Office and report Jenkins to McGonagall. Ron had been seconds away from hexing Jenkins into oblivion; Hermione was muttering frantically about sexual harassment and stalking charges.</p><p>'Can wizards get restraining orders?' Hermione had asked Ron seriously, at which point Harry had intervened and told them both to calm down.</p><p>'I'm fine,' he'd reminded them. 'She didn't actually <em>do</em> anything. It just felt... creepy.'</p><p>Ron and Hermione had both looked extremely doubtful about this, but they'd nonetheless relented.</p><p>Or at least, he thought they had.</p><p>'I found an old copy of Wizarding Law in the library,' Hermione announces as she drops down onto the bench opposite Harry at the Gryffindor table. She heaves a massive book out of her bag; it <em>thunks</em> when it hits the table. She pulls it open to a bookmarked page and points at a paragraph of tiny, cramped writing.</p><p>'Unfortunately what Jenkins did doesn't qualify for sexual assault, and you're over seventeen so we can't get her on any charges involving a minor, but-'</p><p>'Hermione,' Harry interrupts, wide-eyed. 'What are you doing!?'</p><p>Hermione glares at him defiantly. 'Well, I'm hardly about to let some morally depraved victimiser harass you, Harry! I won't just stand back and let her abuse her position of authority and perpetrate-'</p><p>'She's not Umbridge!' Harry protests.</p><p>'No, she's <em>worse</em>,' Hermione hisses. 'I might not be able to lay any criminal charges against her - <em>yet</em> - but I can at the very least make sure she gets a note on her record for inappropriate conduct!'</p><p>Harry feels like the world is slowly going mad. 'Hermione, I already told you - she didn't <em>do</em> anything! All she did was correct my-'</p><p>'She made you feel uncomfortable, Harry,' Hermione argues forcefully. 'You deserve to feel safe around your teachers.'</p><p>Harry doesn't know what to say to that.</p><p>'I wasn't able to protect you from Umbridge,' Hermione admits regretfully after a small pause between them. 'I won't make that mistake again. I <em>will</em> stop her this time.'</p><p>'They're not the same, Hermione,' Harry says weakly, but Hermione doesn't listen.</p><p>'I won't let her hurt you,' she promises fiercely, and then goes back to searching through the enormous law book for answers.</p><p>They have Double DADA first class, and Hermione stays glued to Harry's side the entire walk there. When they enter the classroom, Hermione is close to bristling, and she glares venomously at Jenkins before dragging Harry to a seat at the very back of the class and sitting down next to him, pulling her chair closer to his as if her proximity will protect him from invisible evils and wrongdoers.</p><p>Jenkins is apparently angry with Harry for his <br/>
disobedience the night before, because she treats him with cold indifference and doesn't single him out to show off even once. Her gaze still lingers on him, though, and every time she walks up and down the aisles, Hermione tenses up and gives her a look worthy of Snape.</p><p>Harry doesn't know whether to be amused, annoyed, both or neither.</p><p>Ron takes a more laidback approach than Hermione, but he still gives Jenkins a dirty stink eye every time she looks at Harry for too long, and answers all of her questions with a flat, 'Dunno,' and a shrug, even when Harry knows he knows the answer.</p><p>By the time the painfully long two hour lesson on identifying and countering blood-based curses is over, Harry is stressed, tired and just wants to leave. Before he can, though, Jenkins calls out to him.</p><p>'Detention with me this evening, Mr Potter,' she says stiffly, gaze locked with his.</p><p>'For what!?' Ron splutters indignantly. 'Harry didn't do anything!'</p><p>'Failure to attend his last detention, Mr Weasley, not that it is any of your concern. This is between myself and Harry.'</p><p>Ron glares at her.</p><p>'Class dismissed.'</p><p>Harry storms out of the classroom, Ron and Hermione hot on his heels.</p><p>'Another bloody detention,' Harry mutters angrily once the three of them are alone, scowling at the stone floor.</p><p>'It's like she's mad at you for rejecting her, but she'll still shag you the first chance she gets,' Ron says in disgusted, horrified awe. He's stuck somewhere between disbelieving and incredulous.</p><p>'Doesn't she have <em>any</em> morals?' Hermione demands furiously, glaring at the corridor in front of her with venom in her eyes. 'This is so - so - <em>wrong</em>!'</p><p>Hermione's outburst doesn't relieve any of her tension; instead, she seems to become increasingly irate the more she thinks about it.</p><p>'She's punishing you for refusing her sexual advances,' Hermione declares once they've left the Defence corridor and are descending the stairs to the library for an hour of studying before lunch. 'It's absolutely reprehensible.'</p><p>'Yeah, well, there's nothing I can do about it,' Harry points out gloomily.</p><p>'Yes there is!' Hermione disagrees immediately. 'We can go to Professor McGonagall - Ron and I will back you up, testify that she's been singling you out in class-'</p><p>'And say what, exactly? That I'm annoyed because she's got some weird crush on me? If you want to punish her for that, you're going to have to punish half the school, too.'</p><p>'Harry,' Hermione says seriously, 'please don't take this the wrong way, but you have a history of minimising and dismissing abuse inflicted upon you at the hands of adults. Umbridge <em>tortured</em> you, for an entire year. And nobody did anything. I'm sorry that it happened, and I regret my own inaction tremendously, but that doesn't mean that you can't trust anyone in authority now. I know Headmistress McGonagall has let you down in the past, but if we just <em>tell</em> her-'</p><p>Harry feels prickly, spiky anger bubbling up in his chest. 'Leave it, Hermione,' he says warningly. 'I'm not going to McGonagall.'</p><p>'Harry,' Hermione tries again, and it's so much worse because he can see clear, pure concern written all over her face and shining out of her eyes. 'What happened to you in the past isn't normal, and it isn't okay. And neither is this. You shouldn't have to be fending off your own teacher, and she should have backed off immediately the second you turned her down. She shouldn't even have approached you in the first place!'</p><p>'Yeah, well, guess what Hermione! It's perfectly legal, and there's nothing you can do to stop it! You couldn't stop Umbridge, or Fudge, or Moody, or Quirrell, and you can't stop the people stalking me in the corridors or sending me letters saying they're going to tie me up and-'</p><p>Harry's furious rant cuts off abruptly. His heart is pounding.</p><p>'So just back off, alright?'</p><p>It's like he's thrown up a wall between them. Hermione stands frozen, staring at him with wide, watery eyes, and Harry hates himself as much as he hates her in that moment. He's furious, worked up for things he can't explain, but Hermione's insistent nagging is jabbing at something hot and sore deep inside him that's like an open, weeping wound, and -</p><p>'Mate...' Ron says hesitantly. 'Are you okay?'</p><p>'I'm <em>fine</em>!' Harry snaps, and it's like something has ruptured deep inside him. Something swells up in his chest, and he doesn't know what it is, but it <em>burns</em>.</p><p>He's shaking, he realises abruptly, and he doesn't know whether it's from fury or fear or something else entirely, something horrible and unspeakable, something like -</p><p>'It's okay if you're angry, Harry,' Hermione whispers. 'That's - that's a perfectly valid response to ab- ...to all of this.' She stops suddenly, unable to verbalise whatever else she had planned to say.</p><p>'And you know we're here for you, mate,' Ron jumps in, looking worried. 'Always, whatever you need.'</p><p>'Are you?' Harry challenges angrily, his mind whirling with bitter memories of Ron walking away and leaving him alone.</p><p>Ron blanches. 'I... <em>Yes</em>,' he says firmly, frowning at Harry and straightening with a sudden inner strength. 'I know I've made mistakes in the past, but we all have, and I think I've proven that even when I mess up, I still come back to you in the end. Even at my worst, I never walked away from you altogether. I came back, because that's what friends do. Even when they're mad. <em>I came back</em>, because I care about you more than I could ever resent you.' Ron flushes with embarrassment at his earnest words, but he continues to stare at Harry defiantly.</p><p>Harry already regrets his spiteful words. His fizzing anger fades away to be replaced by heavy, sick shame and guilt, because Ron is right. 'Sorry,' he mutters, rubbing harshly at his face with his hands.</p><p>'It's fine,' Ron says easily, accepting the apology like he'd never needed it. 'Although I like to think that I've proven my loyalty to you by now,' he adds a touch reproachfully. 'Not just any old tosser helps you break into a bloody goblin bank, you know.'</p><p>Harry huffs out a weak laugh. 'That's true,' he says quietly.</p><p>'Don't forget the months in a tent. That was bloody awful,' Hermione says with a wet sniff, giving them a wobbly smile.</p><p>'I have never appreciated my mother's cooking more,' Ron says earnestly, and then ducks away from Hermione's hand when it reaches out to smack him.</p><p>'Feel free to learn to cook five star meals for yourself, Ronald Weasley,' Hermione says haughtily, but she's still smiling.</p><p>'If I'd been cooking, food poisoning would've killed us before Voldemort even got close,' Ron replies jokingly. 'Just because I've got the emotional range of a teaspoon, doesn't mean I actually know how to use one.'</p><p>And just like that, the three of them are snorting and laughing, wiping away tears and gathering the pieces of themselves back together. Not broken, but not quite whole, either. But they're strong, and they've made it this far, and they might not be perfect, but they <em>are</em> enough.</p><p>They might be missing pieces, but together they fill in each other's gaps and make something new. Something <em>good</em>.</p><p>'I'm sorry,' Harry says quietly, once they've dried their faces and returned to a semblance of normality. 'Both of you.' He glances nervously at Hermione. She looks back at him steadily. 'I don't blame you for what happened. I shouldn't have said that. It wasn't fair of me. You were just a kid, too.'</p><p>'Yes, well.' Hermione takes a deep breath, lifting her chin. 'We've all changed, and made mistakes, but we've all grown up and learned to be better. So now we can look out for each other, and protect each other.' She smiles tremulously. 'Even from ourselves.'</p><p>'Okay,' Harry says hesitantly.</p><p>'Alright, enough of these deep, emotional talks,' Ron interjects playfully. 'My poor teaspoon can't handle any more of this!'</p><p>Hermione smiles and rolls her eyes. 'Oh, honestly. Talking about your feelings won't kill you, Ronald.'</p><p>'It might,' Ron argues dubiously. 'I think I'm feeling a little faint... chest pains... something's coming over me... is that a light I see at the end of the corridor?'</p><p>'Yes, it's called sunshine, you great big buffoon,' Hermione retorts. 'Now come on, we can still cram in half an hour of revision before lunch...'</p><p>'Never mind,' Ron says suddenly. 'I want to talk more about my feelings.'</p><p>Harry snorts and drags him by the arm to the library. When Ron wrestles out of his grasp and slings his arm across Harry's shoulders, it feels like friendship and acceptance and forgiveness, and it's the best feeling in the world.</p><p>• • • • • •</p><p>They have their first Charms class after lunch, and to Harry's delight he discovers that Fred and George are acting as teaching assistants for Professor Flitwick as part of their Masteries. Surprisingly, the twins behave relatively professionally, but refuse to answer to "Professor" and prefer their names over "sir" or "mister".</p><p>'We're just here to help you lot!' George says cheerfully.</p><p>'So no need for any fancy airs!' Fred adds.</p><p>Of course, they wouldn't be the twins if they didn't purposefully refer to each other by the wrong names - 'I'm Fred, and that's George,' says George, pointing at Fred - and they take great delight in confusing the students that don't know them well enough to tell them apart, constantly swapping places and even putting an Illusion Charm on the side of George's head so that his scars aren't visible, and it looks like he has two normal ears.</p><p>Harry doesn't think it's a coincidence that the twins are wearing identical outfits.</p><p>They're undeniably great at getting the class to pay attention, though - when Professor Flitwick asks for a quick demonstration of some of the spells already covered in previous years' material, Fred demonstrates the Levitation Charm by casting <em>Wingardium Leviosa</em> at George and sending him floating up to the ceiling, George casually lecturing them all the while - and are happy to help out any students that are struggling. Even the Slytherins are offered friendly grins and helpful hints, and by the end of the class everyone seems to love their new teaching assistants.</p><p>Harry won't be surprised if Charms suddenly becomes one of the most popular subjects by the end of the week.</p><p>Ron rolls his eyes and ribs his older brothers about being sad old sods handing out homework, and Hermione is reluctant at first until she sees that the twins are genuinely there to help and won't spend the classes messing around and wasting valuable time, at which point she relaxes and accepts their help. Harry thinks the entire thing is great, and he's suddenly ridiculously grateful to the twins for returning to Hogwarts despite never wanting to.</p><p>(He wonders, quietly, if the twins didn't just come back for Ron and Ginny and maybe even Harry and Hermione. He wonders if they came back because they could see the misery and loneliness haunting so many students' red, puffy eyes; the grief that seemed to percolate through all of them, strangling them in slow silence. He wonders if the twins came back for <em>everyone</em>, for all of them, to bring back a little light and life and happiness to students who'd been stripped bare of it.)</p><p>(He wonders if they came back to give them hope. The shop can wait, after all. Someone else can man the tills. But not just anyone can convince a crying second year to smile, or help a mourning seventh year to accept loss and move on.)</p><p>(Whatever the reason is, Harry is so, so glad they're here. They need the twins and their easy joy more than they'd realised.)</p><p>• • • • • •</p><p>That evening at dinner, after Harry and Ron have spent their free periods writing essays on factors influencing the permanence and effectiveness of Charms, and Hermione has attended her Ancient Runes class - because only five NEWTs isn't nearly enough for someone as intelligent and determined as Hermione Granger - the problem of Jenkins is once again broached, this time under the safety of a Privacy Charm.</p><p>Harry forces himself to bite his tongue and listen to his best friends, no matter how prickly or defensive he feels. At the very least, he owes them enough to show them some respect and listen to what they have to say.</p><p>'Okay,' Hermione begins seriously, making purposeful eye contact with Harry across the table. 'I know that this makes you uncomfortable, Harry, and we don't have to talk about this if you don't want to, but it's very important and I think we should at least decide what we're going to do about Jenkins before your detention tonight.'</p><p>Harry reluctantly nods his head in agreement and stuffs his mouth full of gravy-soaked Yorkshire pudding.</p><p>'Well obviously he's not going,' Ron says like it's simple.</p><p>Hermione opens her mouth to argue and then stops. 'I suppose we could challenge her reasons for assigning your detentions, since they're rather flimsy. Well, the first one was anyway. Harry <em>did</em> walk out of the first detention, so her second detention is technically permissible - even though he had every right to walk out! We could probably contest them, either way, but the first detention is definitely our stronger argument...'</p><p>'Are we even allowed to protest detentions?' Ron asks, wrinkling his nose in thought.</p><p>'Well, technically as part of a free and democratic society we're allowed to protest anything as long as we do it peacefully,' Hermione says immediately, then pauses. 'But probably not,' she adds with a sigh. 'I can't imagine Professor Snape or Professor Vector would take that sort of thing very well...'</p><p>'Ron's right, I could just not go,' Harry says when neither of them speak up. 'What's she going to do? Give me more detentions?'</p><p>Ron laughs. 'He's got a point,' he tells Hermione cheerfully.</p><p>'She could take off House points,' Hermione points out, 'and yes, I know you don't care about them, but the younger years do. It would be awfully unfair and demoralising for them to lose all their hard-earned points.'</p><p>'Okay,' Harry says slowly. 'If she deducts House points we'll figure out something else. But if she's already giving out detentions and I'm ignoring them, wouldn't losing House points be... I don't know, less of a punishment? It's not really as bad, is it? So I don't think she'd do that - she'll try something else.'</p><p>Hermione frowns. 'You're right, it's a lesser punishment and she'll be looking to escalate the situation, not diminish it,' she agrees, twisting a strand of hair around her fingers thoughtfully. 'She might decide to go to Professor Vector, since she's our new Head of House.'</p><p>'I still can't believe we got the strictest teacher in the school as our Head,' Ron moans.</p><p>'I'm pretty sure that honour is still Snape's,' Harry says wryly.</p><p>'Mate, he didn't even take points off Samuels when she nearly blew up her cauldron, and he didn't give you detention for breathing. He's definitely gone soft,' Ron says firmly.</p><p>'Anyway, back to Jenkins,' Hermione interjects, bringing them back to their main topic of conversation. 'What are we going to do if she complains to Professor Vector?'</p><p>'Run away?' Ron offers glibly. 'I hear France is nice this time of year-'</p><p>Hermione glares at him. 'This is serious!' she exclaims with thick disapproval. 'Harry could be... I don't know, suspended!'</p><p>'They're not going to suspend The Chosen One,' Ron dismisses, completely unruffled by Hermione's dire predictions. 'Especially not over something so minor.'</p><p>'I suppose I could get detention with Vector,' Harry says, intervening before Hermione explodes at Ron's carefree attitude.</p><p>'Which is probably better than detention with Jenkins, but still not an ideal solution,' Hermione says, pursing her lips. She narrows her eyes at the staff table, where Jenkins is chatting happily with Professor Sinistra. True to Ron's earlier prediction, Sinistra has been made Deputy Head alongside Professor Flitwick.</p><p>'What if Harry drops Defence?' Ron suggests uncertainly.</p><p>'No!' Hermione exclaims, horrified. 'His NEWTs - no - that's -' she can barely speak past her vehement disagreement. '<em>No!</em>'</p><p>'Defence is my best subject,' Harry chips in. 'I can't drop it. Plus, five NEWTs is the minimum.'</p><p>'Mate, they'd let you get away with doing one NEWT,' Ron says blithely. He might even be right.</p><p>'Harry shouldn't have to give up something he enjoys just because his teacher is morally corrupt!' Hermione says forcefully.</p><p>'Alright, alright, it was just a suggestion,' Ron acquiesces, holding up his hands.</p><p>Once Hermione has calmed down, her eyebrows go up. 'He might be able to self study,' she says slowly. 'Not drop out completely, just drop out of Jenkins' class...'</p><p>'I can See a lot of Nosebleed Nougats in my future,' Harry says thoughtfully.</p><p>'Fred and George'll give you a lifetime supply if you tell them what's going on,' Ron says. 'In fact, they'd probably give you a lifetime supply even if you didn't tell them what was going on. They bloody love you more than me!'</p><p>Harry cracks a smile. 'I can't help it if I'm wonderful.'</p><p>'Focus!' Hermione interrupts before Ron and Harry can start playfully bickering.</p><p>'I could get someone to tutor me,' Harry suggests, nibbling on some raw carrot sticks. 'Are there any graduates doing a Mastery in Defence? Like Fred and George are doing?'</p><p>'Not that I've heard of,' Ron says, taking a bite of roast beef.</p><p>'Professor McGonagall is talented in Defence, isn't she?' Hermione asks, twisting in her seat to look at the Headmistress thoughtfully.</p><p>'We can't ask McGonagall, she's already busy enough as it is,' Harry disagrees. 'She's probably already stressed; if I ask for tutoring her blood pressure'll go through the roof.'</p><p>Hermione sighs and continues scanning the staff table, hunting for potential candidates.</p><p>'There's always Snape,' Ron says suddenly, his eyes also searching the table.</p><p>'Snape?!' Harry repeats in mild alarm.</p><p>'<em>You're</em> the one that's all "he's a different person now", "honestly, he's changed Ronald",' Ron imitates sarcastically. 'If he's really not so bad, why don't you ask <em>him</em>?'</p><p>'It's a good idea,' Hermione admits after a moment. 'He's probably the best you're going to get.'</p><p>Harry gapes silently. He has no words.</p><p>'See,' Ron says smugly. 'Even Hermione agrees with me.'</p><p>'He'll never agree!' Harry splutters in protest.</p><p>'He might,' Hermione says dubiously. 'There's no harm in asking, anyway. The worst he can do is say no.'</p><p>'The worst he can do is <em>murder me with his eyes</em>,' Harry says seriously.</p><p>Ron snorts. 'Oh, he'll agree,' he says wisely. 'Just to see you suffer.'</p><p>Harry glares at him.</p><p>Ron shrugs, unbothered. 'You might as well try,' he says serenely, and goes back to inhaling his dinner.</p><p>Harry turns to Hermione for support, certain she'll see the lunacy of this plan. She doesn't.</p><p>'Professor Snape <em>has</em> taught Defence before,' she points out calmly. 'Really, he's the best candidate.' She sighs and frowns slightly. 'I almost wish we'd gotten him for Defence Professor. He'd be so much better than <em>her</em>.'</p><p>Whilst Harry agrees with her last sentiments, he's still stuck on the "let's ask Snape to do something crazy he'll never agree to because we hate Jenkins" part.</p><p>'This will never work,' Harry says finally.</p><p>Hermione gives him a serious look. 'You need it to,' she says bluntly, and the truth of her statement is like a Bludger to the chest.</p><p>'Right then,' Harry says weakly, and begins making plans to win over the most sour Professor in existence.</p><p>• • • • • •</p><p>Harry skips his detention with Jenkins on Thursday evening, choosing to work in the Common Room with Hermione instead, who has already made a detailed, colour-coded schedule for September and October.</p><p>'I made you one too,' she says kindly, smiling at him hopefully as she hands over the parchment crammed with study sessions and extra work. Harry feels tired just looking at it, until he sees Hermione's own schedule, which has all of his work plus revision for Ancient Runes and Arithmancy. Once he's seen that, Harry just feels vaguely ill.</p><p>'Hermione,' he says quietly, 'are we definitely sure that you're human?'</p><p>Hermione laughs. 'What, this? Oh, it's not too bad. I had even more scheduled originally, but I decided that it might be beneficial for my mental health not to squeeze in <em>too</em> much revision... it is only September, after all.'</p><p>Harry decides he never, ever wants to see a study schedule made by Hermione for the run-up to their NEWT exams.</p><p>'Well, thanks,' he says as earnestly as he can, reading over it to discover that he's definitely not going to have time for Quidditch or anything like it.</p><p>Remaining off the team isn't as big a loss as it was in fifth year. Harry knows he needs to work hard this year, and the limited free time that he has should be spent with his best friends in their last year at school together. The pitch can wait; Quidditch will always be there.</p><p>And Quidditch doesn't help you break into a bank, either.</p><p>When a lower year student approaches Harry with parchment in hand, he almost swears aloud. He seriously cannot be arsed to deal with this love letter nonsense right now - or ever, really. However, before he can snatch up the letter and toss it in the fire, the student halts beside his chair and shuffles their feet nervously.</p><p>'Professor Jenkins sent this for you,' he says anxiously, shoving the note at Harry and scurrying away.</p><p>Harry glances at Hermione, who has abandoned her studying to watch him curiously, before he opens the note. He reads it twice, and then crumples up the parchment and follows through on his original desire, chucking it straight into the low fire burning in the Common Room fireplace.</p><p>'What did it say?' Hermione asks cautiously, no doubt able to guess that it was nothing good based on his facial expression.</p><p>'I've been given two detentions on Friday and Saturday night for failing to complete either of my other detentions,' Harry tells her blandly, picking up his copy of <em>A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration</em> and staring at it without seeing anything.</p><p>'Are you going to go?' Hermione asks tentatively.</p><p>Harry flashes her a quick grin. 'Not a chance.'</p><p>• • • • • •</p><p>George gets his first letter on Friday morning. It's obvious what the letter contains given the large red ribbon the scroll is tied with; within seconds of George opening the letter, Fred is upon him.</p><p>'Get away from him, you snaggle-toothed hag!' Fred cries in despair, clinging to George desperately. 'He's <em>mine</em>!'</p><p>George pats him on the head, fighting back a grin. 'Don't worry, Freddie,' he says consolingly, 'you'll always be my favourite.'</p><p>Fred sniffs loudly and glares balefully at the scroll. He gets over his apparent heartbreak in record time, switching from intense mourning to indignation within seconds.</p><p>'Where's my letter?' Fred demands as he nicks a piece of George's croissant. George seems to be too busy rereading the letter to notice, but he pokes his twin a second later. Fred slaps his hand away. '<em>I'm</em> the hotter one.'</p><p>'You look exactly the same,' Ron says drily.</p><p>Fred scoffs. 'Ronniekins, open your eyes. I am <em>radiant</em>. Unlike this fat lump over here.' He elbows George to distract him as he pilfers more croissant; when George leans forwards to grab his breakfast back, Fred plucks the letter from his hand and begins tearing it to shreds.</p><p>The entire table watches with surprised amusement.</p><p>George gives Fred an annoyed look that quickly transitions to fond exasperation. 'Do you mind?' he asks sarcastically, raising an eyebrow.</p><p>'You won't be needing this,' Fred informs his twin serenely. 'I'm just disposing of the trash.'</p><p>'And why's that, pray tell?' George asks drily as his brother continues to shred the letter.</p><p>'You're too good for her,' Fred says haughtily without taking his eyes away from the tattered remains of the love letter.</p><p>George rolls his eyes, but his lips quirk into a small smile. 'Oh yeah? And who, exactly, should I be spending my time with instead?' George's voice is teasing now, and Fred clearly knows it, because he tosses the scraps of parchment over his shoulder and fixes his brother with a challenging look.</p><p>'<em>Me</em>,' Fred announces imperiously, and then with a lightning-quick snap of his hand he shoots his arm forwards and steals the last of George's croissant, stuffing it into his mouth and taking a large, victorious bite. He grins at his twin unrepentantly.</p><p>George just sighs and smacks the back of his head lightly. Fred doesn't even try to duck, instead just smiling at his twin triumphantly, eyes sparkling with mischief.</p><p>'I'll never love someone as much as my darling Freddie,' George says solemnly, rolling his eyes.</p><p>'Too bloody right,' Fred huffs out and eats the last of his croissant.</p><p>• • • • • •</p><p>Herbology class is spent laughing at Ron's constipated expression as he's forced to handle a Mandrake and dodging the grasping Venomous Tentacula, which seem to be more aggressive than ever and absolutely hellbent on eating them alive.</p><p>Neville, of course, is fascinated by them.</p><p>Charms class after lunch is challenging in an entirely different way: in an effort to force them to focus on their Bubble-Head Charms, Professor Flitwick lets Fred and George loose on the class. The twins race around the room like demons straight from the pits of hell, dropping personally manufactured stink bombs specifically designed to be as repugnant as possible.</p><p>The entire class is <em>very</em> focused on holding their bubbles over their heads, as well as dispelling the disgusting-smelling air around them. When Flitwick demonstrates the Wind Charm, also known as the Ventus Jinx, it comes as a great relief to the class, especially the students whose bubbles are beginning to shrink or burst.</p><p>Harry and Ron heave a sigh of relief once Charms class ends, free for the rest of the week now that classes are done. Hermione, however, rushes off to her Arithmancy class, a copy of <em>Numerology and Grammatica</em> tucked under one arm.</p><p>'I don't know how she does it,' Ron says through a yawn, stretching his arms out above his head. 'Thank Merlin we're finished, I think my head would explode if we had to do anything else. Fancy a game of catch?'</p><p>Hermione is less than impressed when she discovers that Harry and Ron have wasted two hours flying about on brooms catching Quaffles, but she relents when she sees the wide grins on their faces and reluctantly admits that fresh air and exercise are also important parts of staying healthy.</p><p>She still drags them off to the library to finish their essays for Potions and Herbology.</p><p>By the time dinner rolls around, Harry is wrecked. He yawns his way through a plate of spaghetti and feels ready to face-plant into his ice cream. Any strategising or discussion about The Jenkins Situation is quickly abandoned when Terry Boot comes over to sit beside Hermione and discuss that afternoon's Arithmancy class. Ron and Harry are quick to tune the pair out, hearing a lot of big words and understanding none of it.</p><p>'Reckon the Cannons have a chance this year,' Ron tells Harry optimistically as he holds up the Quidditch league table printed on the back of the Daily Prophet.</p><p>'They're at the bottom,' Harry says after a moment of squinting.</p><p>'Yeah, well, that just means the only way is up, doesn't it?' Ron retorts sunnily, and joins in with Harry's laughter.</p><p>'Sure,' Harry agrees benevolently. 'Unless they start going sideways.'</p><p>Ron smacks him with the paper. 'Shut up, O ye of little faith.'</p><p>'Why'd you support the Chudley Cannons, anyway?' Harry asks curiously a few moments later, after they've both finished off their desserts.</p><p>A strange look flickers over Ron's face. 'Ryan Connelly,' he says finally, glancing at Harry before looking back down at the paper in his hands. 'He... he's a great player!'</p><p>Harry gets the feeling that there's more to the story, but Ron doesn't mention it, and he doesn't press.</p><p>Ron never asked about the letter, after all. The least Harry can do is return the favour.</p><p>• • • • • •</p><p>'You should talk to Professor Snape after class on Monday,' Hermione says decisively later that evening, once they've tucked themselves away into a quiet corner of Gryffindor Common Room. Harry, who is supposed to be in detention and blatantly isn't, fiddles with his wand and sends mini jet streams flying across a nearby table like a parade of tiny tornadoes. Flitwick would be proud, he muses absently, as one of his Wind Charms picks up a small scrap of torn parchment and flings it up into the air.</p><p>'I can't believe this is our best plan,' Ron says in dejected horror, flopping back into his armchair.</p><p>'I can't believe we <em>have</em> a plan,' Harry says sarcastically.</p><p>'Hey, we always had a plan!' Ron says defensively. 'It was simple but brilliant: don't die.'</p><p>Harry snorts. 'Great plan.'</p><p>'Would you two focus for one minute...' Hermione says exasperatedly.</p><p>'I thought we'd already established a plan: talk to Snape on Monday and don't die,' Harry says cheekily.</p><p>Hermione flicks a mild Stinging Hex at his nose with her fingers. Harry is reluctantly impressed, despite his smarting nose.</p><p>'Bad Chosen One!' Ron chastises teasingly as if Harry is a dog, and gets his own hex a moment later.</p><p>'Now that you two aren't acting like five year olds,' Hermione begins long-sufferingly, 'we should discuss what Harry's going to say and make alternate plans in case this doesn't work.'</p><p>'You mean <em>when</em> it doesn't work,' Harry interjects cynically.</p><p>'Don't be such a pessimist,' Hermione says dismissively. 'We've pulled off more impossible things than this.'</p><p>Harry is forced to admit that what she says is true. He doesn't have to admit that out loud, though, so he doesn't.</p><p>'We could just wait until Harry can produce Phoenix tears and then bribe Snape. Or offer him a trade,' Ron suggests in a moment of inspiration.</p><p>'That'll take too long,' Harry points out. 'They won't be ready for at least another ten or twelve days, and Hermione'll kill us if we do anything without testing them first.' Hermione doesn't deny this. 'I've already gotten four detentions this week - I'll probably get triple that next week, at the rate I'm going.'</p><p>'We'd have to wait nearly a month,' Hermione agrees, 'and Jenkins could cause all sorts of trouble in that amount of time. Plus, it seems rather... amoral to hang Professor Snape's only chance at health over his head. It's a bit... cruel, isn't it? We'd basically be forcing him to agree to whatever we wanted.'</p><p>Ron, who clearly hadn't thought of it like that, hurriedly backtracks. 'Yeah, no, definitely not!'</p><p>'Okay, so that's out,' Harry says firmly, and no one disagrees. 'And I'm not dropping Defence. Even if I could somehow switch to Care of Magical Creatures, I wouldn't want to. Unless Jenkins turns into another Umbridge, I'm keeping on Defence.'</p><p>Hermione fights valiantly not to say anything about his Umbridge comment. No doubt she'd love to list all the reasons why Jenkins is even worse, but Harry doesn't want to hear them.</p><p>'And you're not switching schools,' Ron says, not even needing to debate the idea. 'What about hiring a private tutor? You've got more than enough gold.'</p><p>It's a sign of how far Ron's come that he doesn't display even a hint of jealousy at the mention of Harry's wealth, which is ridiculously massive in comparison to his own.</p><p>'That could work,' Hermione says, becoming more certain the longer she thinks it through. 'People would be falling over themselves to tutor you, so you'd have your pick of teachers.'</p><p>Harry grimaces slightly. 'I'm not sure that'd be any better than Jenkins,' he admits awkwardly. 'Would Professor McGonagall even let me do that?'</p><p>'Well, I don't see how she could stop you,' Hermione says, frowning in thought. 'Even if it meant dropping Defence here and taking the exam privately instead of through Hogwarts. But that would only be as a last resort, of course.' Hermione hesitates. 'I promise that I'll respect any decision you make and not force you into anything Harry, but if you're going to do anything that drastic you really should talk to Professor McGonagall first.'</p><p>'That'd go down well,' Ron says sarcastically. 'Chosen One decides Hogwarts isn't good enough for him: is this the end of proper education in wizarding Britain?'</p><p>'<em>Don't</em>,' Harry groans at the thought of the papers catching wind of this mess.</p><p>'Skeeter'd have a field day,' Ron adds. 'That is, if she could drag herself away from her piles of Love Festival articles long enough to write anything else.' He makes a face of disgust. 'D'you know the Prophet's running a betting pool about who'll finally win our <em>darling</em> Harry's heart?'</p><p>'I hope <em>myself</em> is an option,' Harry says flatly, 'since I'm not going to be courted by anyone.'</p><p>'Oooooh, but <em>Harry</em>,' Ron says in a sing-song voice, leaning forwards eagerly, 'what if <em>you</em> court someone instead?'</p><p>Harry rolls his eyes and shoves Ron back. 'Like who? Snape?'</p><p>'Why is <em>that</em> who your mind goes to first?!' Ron whines despairingly.</p><p>'Don't give Skeeter any ideas,' Hermione says sourly, momentarily overcome with hatred for the reporter.</p><p>'I should just pretend to date one of you and save myself the hassle,' Harry muses thoughtfully.</p><p>'That's a terrible idea,' Hermione says drily.</p><p>'Oh, <em>sure</em>, you can bring me roses, Harry,' Ron says sardonically, putting his hands over his heart and batting his eyelashes dramatically. 'You make me <em>swoon</em> every time you walk in the room, my heart's all a-flutter, I just want to-' His light, cheery voice suddenly cuts off. '-strangle you for laughing at me in Herbology, you great big heartless git.'</p><p>Harry grins unrepentantly. 'It <em>was</em> funny though.'</p><p>'Oh, I've got the perfect partner for you,' Ron says snarkily. 'A Mandrake would fit you to a tee. Or one of those bloody Venomous Tentacula, it can do us all a favour and eat your face off.'</p><p>Harry sends a Ventus Jinx at Ron's face, and the evening dissolves into unproductive mayhem. Hermione is only a little bit disappointed, but she gets over it when Ron turns Harry's hair bright red, and then can't change it back.</p><p>Harry forgets about everything, and just lets himself be free, and silly, and laugh.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A/N: What do you think? Is Hermione overreacting? Is this just Hermione's misplaced guilt over what happened with Umbridge and everyone's failure to protect Harry, or does Jenkins deserve to be reported? I'm interested to hear your thoughts!</p><p><b>For those wondering why Harry isn't immediately rushing to McGonagall: ...because he never did in canon. Harry always tries to solve his problems alone first before he involves adults, and even when he does it doesn't always work out for him. So I think it's more IC for him to hesitate about going to McGonagall, especially when he's in denial about how inappropriate Jenkins' behaviour is. Hermione is trying to respect his decision and not force him, whilst also pushing him in the right direction.</b> Don't worry, we'll get there! :)</p><p>Also, in my not-so-humble opinion, the most unrealistic part of HP wasn't the dragons or goblins or crazy soul magic. It was the fact that Harry went through sixteen years of hell and came out of it with barely any trauma. Like,,,,,, what even. No. This boy needs therapy, stat. And a cookie.</p><p>We all hated Caps Lock Harry, butttttt... he was pretty realistic. Honestly, we probably should've had more Hulk Mode Harry....</p><p>Also also, friends who forgive you are the best &lt;3</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Deal with the Dungeon Devil</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If you see any typos please let me know!</p><p>Also... over a hundred people have subscribed to this story!?!?! Thank you so much!! I am honestly so thrilled with how great and lovely the response to this fic has been! I was so nervous to put this up but you guys honestly make me grin with silly happiness when I read your kind, funny comments. Thank you thank you thank you! &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>On Saturday morning, Harry comes down to breakfast to discover that Fred has clambered halfway into George's lap and is pointing his wand at every owl that dares come near him, looking ready to hex any bird that so much as looks at George.</p><p>George, for the most part, seems to be completely unbothered by this turn of events, biting into a croissant as he flicks through a book he has propped open on the table. The sight of a Weasley twin studying is almost more bizarre than one threatening to pluck and roast the post owls, and for a moment Harry just blinks at them before he shakes his head and sits down.</p><p>'What's gotten into them?' he asks Ron with bemusement as he digs into his breakfast.</p><p>Ron glances at his older brothers and shrugs good-naturedly. 'Insanity, probably,' he says wisely before taking a large mouthful of honey-drizzled pancake.</p><p>Thankfully the barrage of letters for Harry seems to have slowed somewhat - perhaps the initial panic is over now that Harry hasn't rushed off with the first person to send him an offer of friendship or declaration of intent - and Harry is more than happy for people to wait until the official start of the Festival before they send any more. Truthfully, he's happy to wait until the end of his natural life, but he doesn't think he'll get quite that lucky.</p><p>He certainly needs all the luck he can get on Monday morning, he thinks with growing nausea as he enters the Potions classroom. Ron, seeing Harry's slightly pale face, claps him on the shoulder before he takes his seat on the opposite side of the aisle. Hermione smiles reassuringly at him and gives his hand a quick squeeze under the desk.</p><p>'Pass your essays to the front,' Snape instructs them in a voice so void of emotion it's close to robotic. 'Today we shall be discussing your abysmal failures at identifying an unknown liquid.'</p><p>Harry's eyes widen as he realises that he never bragged to Hermione about his knowledge or even used it to bribe her into proofreading his essay. Internally kicking himself for getting distracted by Hermione's War Against Jenkins, Harry wonders whether Snape will figure out that he'd essentially cheated if he "discovers" that his vial contains lye.</p><p>Probably, since Harry's not even one hundred percent sure what lye <em>is</em>. He thinks it might be a white powder. Maybe. There are a lot of very similar-looking white powders in Potions - everything from chalk to powdered unicorn horn.</p><p>'At some point in your lives, you may have to identify an unknown poison,' Snape tells them all calmly. 'If any of you are planning to be Healers or Aurors, as I assume many of you are, then you will learn that there are several spells which can help you identify an unfamiliar liquid or substance, some of which we will discuss later in the year. However, these spells are not infallible, and it is important to know how to determine the identity of these substances from their physical and magical properties in addition to the spell readings, as the spells alone will not be enough for a medical diagnosis, criminal investigation or toxicology report. Or the morgue.'</p><p>Harry almost wants to a huff a laugh. Did Snape just make... a <em>joke</em>? Sure, it was sarcastic as hell, kind of crap and rather morbid - quite literally - but <em>still</em>. Harry didn't think he had it in him.</p><p>'All six senses should be employed when investigating an unknown variable,' Snape continues. 'Your eyes, ears, nose, mouth, touch and magic can provide you with an incredibly complex level of detail if you know how and what to look for. Of course, without the proper training, study or focus, you will be about as useful as a melted cauldron. You are all, of course, already well aware of this sensation.'</p><p>Harry doesn't know whether to laugh or hex him. In the end he does neither, but both are unfairly tempting.</p><p>'Today we will be focusing on the first five senses,' Snape says, much to the class' collective disappointment. He gives them a withering glare and all traces of upset instantly vanish from their faces; once Snape is satisfied that they are all appropriately receptive of his next lesson, the two hour lecture begins.</p><p>'Now, the first important factor to consider with a colourless liquid is its refraction of light. Liquids which contain strong magical ingredients will scatter light in a random or abnormal pattern...'</p><p>'...The size, smoothness and regularity of granules in a powder can reveal a lot about its origin and production, particularly if it is coloured, as this allows for a relatively simple process of elimination. Orange, pink and purple powders in particular are much less common, and even the most absent-minded of you should be able to memorise the list of compounds with these distinctive colours...'</p><p>'...Sound is the most underestimated and least utilised sense when identifying unknown compounds. This applies to all areas of magic and academia, but within the field of Potions, much can be learned from hissing, fizzing, bubbling and a range of other auditory cues. In the coming weeks you will be introduced to the Potioneers' Echo spell, <em>Medeis resonantia</em>, which produces a sound of differing pitch and frequency depending on the concentration of magic within a particular potion. This will enable you to differentiate between magical and mundane compounds, should you be able to maintain the necessary concentration long enough to actually cast it...'</p><p>'...Viscosity is another identifying property of many liquids and potions. Whether the potion is thick, thin or smooth-flowing can indicate or eliminate several key ingredients, including several types of mucus and magical creature blood...'</p><p>'...Smell is a vital but dangerous identifier, as toxic potions and poisons can render you light-headed, dizzy, unconscious or even dead if directly inhaled. Wafting a small amount of the air above the potion towards you is a much safer method and will likely save the lining of your nostrils and lungs from being fried, should you be unlucky enough to stumble across potions such as the Dragon's Breath or the Acid Vapour potion, both of which emit corrosive fumes...'</p><p>'...Rubbing a small sample of a potion between your thumb, index and middle fingers can reveal a lot about the smoothness or granularity, as well as its thickness, stickiness and relative density. This is particularly effective for identifying ingredients such as mucus and slime, and observing how quickly it dries on the skin and any patterns it creates once dried can even identify the particular type of mucus. However, it is <em>absolutely paramount</em> that you ensure the sample is inert and harmless before you attempt any tactile examinations, unless you wish to rid yourself of your upper layers of skin in an extremely painful manner...'</p><p>'...Numerous potions with several strong magical ingredients feel hot or cold to the touch, regardless of their surrounding environment's temperature, and some may even absorb any heat applied to them without changing temperature. This is an extremely strong and useful indicator, but caution should be taken with extremely hot or cold potions, as careless fools have been known in the past to inflict frostbite upon themselves in their witless experimentation; others have scalded their own hands with nothing but a potion and their own overwhelming stupidity...'</p><p>'...You will be expected to be able to memorise and recall several key characteristics of a range of potions and ingredients, and may be asked in your NEWT exam to offer possible identities for substances described by their colour, texture, smell etcetera. I expect that you will begin the study of key ingredients immediately, as attempting to learn them all in a short period of time will teach you nothing except the depths of your own foolishness and incompetence...'</p><p>'...You will write an essay for Wednesday, providing a summary of the main investigative techniques employed in the examination of unfamiliar potions. Chapter Fifteen of your textbooks will give you additional guidance, should you need it - which you undoubtedly will...'</p><p>'...Class dismissed.'</p><p>Everyone else breathes a sigh of relief and rushes to pack their things away, eager to escape the watchful gaze and ever-changing mood of Snape. Harry, however, has no such luxury. Instead, his heart rate picks up and his muscles clench and tense; this is it, the moment he's been dreading all day...</p><p>'Good luck, mate,' Ron murmurs under his breath, clapping Harry on the shoulder before following Hermione out of the room.</p><p>Both had offered to stay, but Harry would prefer to just get this over with, and he doubts that their presence would do anything other than irritate Snape. Hopefully Harry asking by himself will at least prove that he's doing this of his own free will, and not because Hermione told him to, which is probably what Snape would assume of his bizarre request.</p><p>Deep breath.</p><p>'Is there a particular reason for your continued presence, Potter, or have you simply taken leave of your senses?' Snape asks pointedly when Harry continues to stand awkwardly beside his desk, desperately working up his courage.</p><p>'No - I mean yes - I mean, yes, there is a reason; no, I've not lost the plot.'</p><p>'Is that so?' Snape asks drily. 'Well, in your own time, Potter, might you eventually manage to reveal this no doubt incredible reason of yours?'</p><p>Harry ignores Snape's sarcasm - seriously, the man is <em>impossible</em> - and braces himself. This is it. He's probably insane, and this is definitely going to end terribly, but he's going to do it. Now. Any second. Yes.</p><p>No, this is a terrible idea.</p><p>Gryffindor. He's a Gryffindor. He defeated a bloody Dark Lord. Snape can't kill him for asking ridiculous questions. Probably. If he did, Professor McGonagall would strangle him and bash him to death with a sentient statue for murdering a student, after she'd clawed his face off.</p><p>He can do this.</p><p>(And if he doesn't, he's got to go back to a classroom controlled by <em>Jenkins</em>. Jenkins who stares at him like a Snitch she's trying to catch, and gives him detention as petty revenge, and hides a wild temper beneath her pretty smiles and flattering words. Who cornered him in a classroom, and touched him in ways he's sure weren't innocent or accidental, and will get away with all of it because there's nothing he can do.)</p><p>(Hermione is right. Again. As usual. He <em>needs</em> Snape to say yes to this crazy plan of his. Because the alternative is... unthinkable.)</p><p>(He'd survive Jenkins, but... he wants to do more than just survive now.)</p><p>(He deserves to feel safe, Hermione had said. And Jenkins... Jenkins doesn't feel safe.)</p><p>(Snape would never do that to him. Somehow, against all impossible odds, Snape has become the safer choice. It's unbelievable and mad, but it's also true.)</p><p>(Snape won't back him into a corner or try to seduce Harry into a relationship. He'll glare at him, and throw out depressingly-accurate insults, and he'll compliment Harry for his work around the same time that he spontaneously turns into a unicorn, but he'll teach him, too. And that will be all that he does.)</p><p>(Harry can live with some drawling, sarcastic, sour words; he grew up hearing far worse. He doesn't want to live with whatever Jenkins might try to do to him.)</p><p>'Sir, I wanted to ask if you would tutor me in Defence Against the Dark Arts. Please.'</p><p>Snape stares at Harry. It's almost funny, how speechless he is, except that Harry is too nervous and worked up to find anything about this situation amusing. He'll probably laugh about it later, if he's still alive by then.</p><p>'<em>Please</em>,' Harry begs. He's so desperate he doesn't care - he's willing to torch his own pride if that's what it takes.</p><p>Eventually, Snape deigns to speak. 'In case you've forgotten, Mr Potter, I am your <em>Potions</em> Professor,' he says drily. 'You already have a Defence Professor - if you are struggling in other subjects it is none of my concern. You take enough of my time as it is.'</p><p>'Sir,' Harry pleads, 'please. I can't ask Jenkins.'</p><p>'Why ever not, Potter? You certainly have no such compunctions in asking me to sacrifice my limited free time. And the correct address is <em>Professor</em> Jenkins. You would do well to demonstrate whatever scraps of basic decency, decorum and respect you possess.'</p><p>Harry takes a deep breath. 'She told me in class last Wednesday that I was the best student in the school,' he says flatly.</p><p>Snape pauses.</p><p>'Exactly,' Harry says tersely. 'Surely you can see how desperate the situation is. Sir.'</p><p>'Anyone who labours under the delusion that you are in any way the most talented student in this school is deserving of a dip in the bottom of the Black Lake, Potter,' Snape says matter-of-factly.</p><p>Harry exhales a sigh of relief. 'So you'll help me? Sir?' he asks hopefully.</p><p>'I fail to see why doing so would benefit me in any way,' Snape retorts disdainfully, 'or why you have chosen <em>me</em> of all people to tutor you, when your opinion of me has been perfectly clear for the last seven years.'</p><p>Harry swallows. 'You're one of the best Defence professors I've ever had-' he begins.</p><p>'Given that most of your previous professors were raving mad lunatics, that is hardly a resounding endorsement, Potter,' Snape interrupts, utterly unimpressed.</p><p>'That doesn't mean it's not still true,' Harry protests. Snape is unmoved. 'And I know you'll tell me the truth,' he adds, certain of this much. 'You won't tell me I'm doing a great job just because I'm "The Chosen One".'</p><p>'The day I do, you may commit me to St. Mungo's,' Snape mutters under his breath. However, he seems less opposed to Harry's request than he did a minute ago, so Harry forges ahead in the hopes of winning the prickly man over.</p><p>'You're more experienced than Jenkins,' Harry says. '<em>Professor</em> Jenkins,' he relents reluctantly when Snape glares at him. 'And I know you're capable of teaching NEWT-level Defence. No one else has taught it to that level before.' Snape doesn't disagree with this assumption, so Harry pretends he knew it was a fact all along and keeps going. 'And I know you're willing to tutor students who need it, since you've helped me before-'</p><p>'At Headmaster Dumbledore's request,' Snape interrupts. 'Which was tantamount to an order.'</p><p>'You still did it,' Harry argues. 'And if you don't want people knowing you're tutoring me in Defence, I'll tell them it's Remedial Potions, and no one will question it since everyone knows I've done it before.'</p><p>Snape raises one sardonic eyebrow. 'You've actually given this more than your customary single second of thought,' he notes in surprise. 'Merlin help us all.'</p><p>Harry barrels on ahead as if he hasn't just been called thoughtless - because Snape probably has a bit of a point about him not thinking things through well enough before he does something incredibly reckless. He blames his Gryffindor side - and continues with his pleading.</p><p>'You said that I've made my opinion of you clear, but...' Harry steels himself. 'Hermione told me last week that we've all changed, and I think it's true. You've changed, sir, and so have I. So any of my past opinions of you are irrelevant, because you're a different person now. And so am I.'</p><p>Snape doesn't respond - doesn't so much as blink - so after a hesitant second where he waits for the man to blow up at him, Harry decides he might as well keep going while he still can.</p><p>'And - And I was wrong about you. Sir. You're... Um, not who I thought you were. So for that I'm sorry.'</p><p>Snape's eyes seem to be trying to drill holes into Harry's. Distantly, Harry wonders whether he should be trying to Occlude and prevent the man from reading his mind, but then he realises that it might actually benefit him if Snape does, because at least then the man will know that what Harry's saying is true.</p><p>This time when silence falls over them, Harry doesn't have the strength to break it. Instead he lets it settle over him, bracing himself for whatever comes next.</p><p>'It would seem,' Snape finally speaks, his voice low and soft, 'that I have been wrong about you too, Mr Potter. You are most certainly not your father.'</p><p>Harry swallows and resists the urge to fidget nervously.</p><p>'Only your mother would ever have offered such a blunt, ramshackle, bull-headed mess of an apology and still managed to get away with it,' Snape continues after a momentary pause, his mouth quirking slightly in amusement.</p><p>Harry nearly falls over. Snape is - is he - is that a <em>smile</em>? Not a full one - not even half of one - but still! Snape! Smiling! At <em>Harry</em>!</p><p>The world must be ending, Harry thinks distantly. He doesn't even care if it means he gets miracles like this.</p><p>'However,' Snape says, swiftly losing all traces of friendliness or warmth, 'you have failed to take into consideration that you are bargaining with a <em>Slytherin</em>, Mr Potter. And Slytherins do nothing for free.'</p><p>For half of one crazy second, Harry considers offering up a cheeky retort that he's mature enough to see beyond House boundaries and prejudices now, but he rapidly decides that he's not that familiar with Snape yet - nor will he ever be, because not even the world ending could cause that - and also, he doesn't want to die. So instead Harry racks his brain and says, 'I'll help you prepare Potions ingredients?'</p><p>'So you can mangle them with your haphazard chopping and rough peeling?' Snape rejoins with a condescendingly amused huff.</p><p>'It'll give me practice for Potions class?' Harry says hopefully.</p><p>'No.'</p><p>'Um... I'll clean cauldrons?' Harry suggests, dreading the idea but recognising that some things are worth suffering for, and dirty cauldrons are hardly the worst thing he's ever suffered.</p><p>'I am perfectly capable of a Scouring Charm, Mr Potter,' Snape refuses tonelessly. Harry restrains himself from pointing out that that didn't stop him from assigning Harry to cauldron scrubbing for years.</p><p>'I'll... I'll...' Harry tries desperately to come up with a persuasive offer. 'I'll pick Potions ingredients for you?'</p><p>'Can you honestly tell me that you know the difference between lavender and valerian, Potter?' Snape challenges mercilessly.</p><p>'I can learn?' Harry tries.</p><p>'In your own time,' Snape replies swiftly. 'My ingredients stores shall not suffer your blunders.'</p><p>Harry nearly groans. 'I'll... um... I'll...' He momentarily closes his eyes and resigns himself to misery. 'I'll do whatever you want,' he offers finally, trying not to sound too defeated.</p><p>Snape stares at him suspiciously. When he realises Harry's offer is genuine, he rolls his eyes. 'Thank you, Mr Potter, for providing yet more evidence of your severely deficient self-preservation skills,' Snape says blandly. 'I was beginning to wonder whether they'd died completely. It would appear that my fears have proven true, and there is simply no hope for your impulsive, reckless, suicidal tendencies.'</p><p>Harry resists the urge to sigh, and silently reminds himself why winning Snape over is so important. 'You're not going to ask me to jump off the Astronomy Tower, sir.'</p><p>'Aren't I?' Snape asks, contrary prick that he is.</p><p>'No,' Harry states bluntly. 'And if you do, I'll be sure to bring a broom and cast a nice, big Cushioning Charm for when I land.'</p><p>Snape glares at him. 'Watch your tone, Potter, before I decide to dispatch of you altogether.'</p><p>'Yes, sir,' Harry mutters.</p><p>They stare at each other for a moment in tense silence, sizing the other up. Snape seems to be scrutinising Harry for signs that he honestly means what he says. If that's the case, he'll find them, because Harry hasn't said anything that isn't completely true.</p><p>After several moments of staring into Harry's eyes - probably reading his mind, Harry thinks in unsurprised yet irritated resignation he's beginning to associate with Snape's mercurial moods and unpredictable behaviour - Snape straightens up and crosses his arms, glaring down his nose at Harry.</p><p>'I will give you a set of notes. You will memorise them and learn to carve the symbols correctly. I will not accept mistakes,' Snape instructs sternly.</p><p>It takes Harry a second to catch on to what's happening. 'You'll tutor me!?' he exclaims, surprised and delighted. He can't believe his mad plan worked, or that Snape agreed to his insane request. 'Thank you, sir!'</p><p>'You have until next Monday to learn them,' Snape continues strictly, as if Harry hadn't spoken. Harry doesn't point out that he's only being given a week, or that he's never studied Ancient Runes in his life. Instead he nods along and mentally plans to beg Hermione for help later.</p><p>'I will not extend this offer twice, Potter,' Snape warns him threateningly. 'Do not disappoint me.'</p><p>'I won't, sir!' Harry promises, practically beside himself with disbelieving delight. He can't believe his ears! Snape actually agreed to tutor him! <em>Him! </em>Harry Potter! The bane of Snape's very existence!</p><p>Snape reaches into a drawer in his desk and pulls out several long sheets of parchment, all covered in dark ink and strange symbols that must be Ancient Runes. He hands them to Harry - who immediately takes them, caught somewhere between relief, jubilation and shocked dissociation from the entire situation - and then sighs irritably.</p><p>'You will know these by next Monday or never step into my classroom outside of lessons or detention again. Now get out of my sight.'</p><p>Not even the complicated pages of notes clasped tightly in Harry's hand can dim the smile on his face. He lifts his gaze back up to Snape, who looks supremely unimpressed, and grins at him.</p><p>'Thank you, sir,' he says earnestly, hope swelling in his chest as he basks in the realisation that he has a way out. He has a lifeline. Snape has just unknowingly handed him the key to the cage Jenkins is trying to trap him in, and Harry has never been more grateful for the man in his entire life.</p><p>'Don't make me tell you twice, Potter,' Snape says sternly, and Harry rushes from the room before he can retract his offer.</p><p>• • • • • •</p><p>Harry practically bounces into the library, waving his parchment aloft in triumph when he catches sight of Ron and Hermione bent over books at a table, looking bored and engrossed respectively. When they catch sight of Harry's delighted expression, Ron looks surprised and Hermione's eyebrows shoot up her forehead.</p><p>'What's that?' Ron asks as Harry throws himself into a chair opposite him, quickly casting a Privacy Charm with a sharp upwards flick of his hand.</p><p>'He said yes!' Harry declares, half-laughing as he beams at them in stupefied success. 'He actually said yes!'</p><p>'What'd you do, Confound him? Blackmail? Compulsion Charm?' Ron asks with no small amount of incredulous disbelief.</p><p>'Oi!' Harry chucks a mild Stinging Hex at the redhead - he's finally figured out to do it wandlessly and wordlessly like Hermione does - and straightens up in his seat. 'I asked - <em>nicely</em> - and after a bit of... debate, he agreed.' Harry stares at nothing in amazement. 'He actually agreed,' he repeats dazedly.</p><p>'Well, that's great!' Hermione says approvingly.</p><p>'Told you he'd want the chance to insult you even more,' Ron says, but he looks just as surprised as Harry feels.</p><p>'I can skip some of Jenkins' classes now,' Harry says in quiet awe, some of his shock wearing off as reality finally sinks in. 'If you let me duplicate your notes, and I study from the textbooks, and with Snape's help... Merlin, I can actually do this!'</p><p>He gives Hermione a small, stunned smile. She smiles back at him, looking pleased. 'You'll still have to come to some of the classes,' she warns him, but Harry doesn't care. Getting away from even half of Jenkins' classes is worth anything - even tutoring with Snape.</p><p>'It's your pyre,' Ron says blithely, and ducks when Hermione tries to whack him.</p><p>'He wasn't that bad,' Harry recalls, surprised by his own realisation. 'Honestly, he didn't even properly insult me. I think he was in just as much shock as I was. The only time he threatened me, he was pretty much just joking.'</p><p>'Snape.' Ron says in flat skepticism. '<em>Joking</em>.'</p><p>'I think he's got the most twisted sense of humour in existence, but it's there,' Harry muses thoughtfully. 'Didn't you notice the joke he made about morgues during class today?'</p><p>Ron stares at him. 'Mate,' he says slowly, 'you're definitely seeing things that aren't there. Are you sure you didn't just hallucinate Snape's agreement to tutor you?'</p><p>'<em>Yes</em>.'</p><p>'I suppose I can see how you might think that was a joke,' Hermione says hesitantly.</p><p>'I'm pretty sure it was,' Harry says, but now he's beginning to doubt himself. 'Anyway, it doesn't matter. He agreed to tutor me! I think the world might be ending.'</p><p>'Oh, it definitely is,' Ron groans, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his face. 'How are you so happy about this? I thought you didn't like Snape. At all.'</p><p>'Well, I don't, really,' Harry admits, frowning in thought. 'But he's better than Jenkins. And he's <em>loads</em> better than he used to be.'</p><p>'That's true,' Hermione agrees. 'I'm learning a lot more from him now; his change in teaching style and delivery creates a much more conducive environment for learning.' Her eyes land on the parchment in Harry's hand. 'Did he give you those?' she asks eagerly, leaning forwards to see. 'What are they? Are they an outline of the Defence NEWT curriculum? Did you discuss what he's going to be teaching you? Did he give you any tips for the exams?'</p><p>She's practically halfway out of her seat in excitement by the time she's finished rattling off questions. Harry's pretty sure the only reason she stops is because she has to breathe or risk suffocating herself.</p><p>'Erm, no,' Harry says, glancing down at the lines of neat, spiky cursive and odd little lines covering the sheets of parchment. 'I... honestly don't have a clue what this is about,' he adds, skimming over the first paragraph. 'He wants me to learn Runes,' Harry explains when Hermione looks ready to begin another round of interrogation. 'I don't know what these are for - they must be used for Defence somehow. Will you help me with them?' he looks at Hermione hopefully.</p><p>'Of course,' she agrees immediately. Harry's sure she's agreeing just as much out of academic curiosity as she is her own generosity. 'You'll let me duplicate the notes?'</p><p>'Yeah, sure,' Harry agrees, not bothered in the slightest if Hermione also has copies of Snape's notes. She'll probably get loads more out of them than he will, anyway. After all, she's the one that's been studying Ancient Runes since third year, not him.</p><p>That all screeches to a halt a moment later.</p><p>'These aren't Ancient Runes,' Hermione says after she's scanned the first sheet of parchment, sounding somewhere between dumbfounded, enchanted and offended, like it's a personal insult for knowledge to exist that she doesn't know about. 'What are these?' she demands, eager inquisitiveness bringing her to life.</p><p>'Er,' Harry says uncertainly, 'I don't know. Snape just called them symbols and said I had to learn them, and I assumed they were Runes.'</p><p>Hermione begins devouring the notes, looking increasingly perplexed and even a little scandalised that whatever is written on the parchment isn't obeying her perception of the world.</p><p>'Why are you <em>carving</em> them?' Hermione bursts out a couple of minutes later, lifting her head to pull answers from Harry.</p><p>'...Don't you... usually carve them?' Harry asks blankly.</p><p>'No!' Hermione says impatiently. 'We write them! With ink!'</p><p>'Oh. Well... I don't really know,' Harry confesses, only throwing fuel onto the fire of Hermione's academic indignation and voracious curiosity. She looks ready to run off and begin hounding Snape for answers.</p><p>'These make no sense!' Hermione says indignantly, and Ron is so surprised at the existence of something Hermione doesn't immediately understand that he leans sideways and peers at the parchment notes over her shoulder.</p><p>'Not a clue,' he declares a moment later, returning back to his seat. This lack of explanation only irritates Hermione further.</p><p>'Ancient Runes are a <em>language</em>!' Hermione says passionately, spreading the sheets of parchment across the table, burying her Potions books and class notes. 'They're used as a form of communication, not - not to cast magic!'</p><p>'Is that what these do?' Harry asks with interest, turning his head as he tries to read upside down.</p><p>'Well, it doesn't outright say so, but it's <em>implied</em>,' Hermione says, pointing at a paragraph and frowning at it as if it has just insulted her mother.</p><p>'Why don't you just go ask Snape?' Ron suggests carelessly, and Hermione looks incredibly tempted for a moment before she bites her lip and glances down at the Potions textbook peaking out from beneath the Not-Runes notes.</p><p>'I can't right now, I have to write that investigative techniques essay for Potions, and I've got double Arithmancy after Transfiguration, so I need to get as much work done now as I can, because we always get a lot of Arithmancy homework and Professor McGonagall will probably give us work too...'</p><p>Hermione looks so anxious and conflicted by the end of her rambling that Harry almost feels bad for her.</p><p>'I'll ask Snape next Monday,' Harry promises, even though he'll probably regret it later, 'and tell you whatever he says.'</p><p>Hermione looks so overwhelmingly grateful, and then peeved that she'll have to wait a week to satisfy her burning curiosity, that Harry nearly laughs. He doesn't, because he doesn't want another Stinging Hex to the nose, but it's close.</p><p>Once Harry has gathered back up Snape's notes on Not-Ancient-Runes, he follows Hermione's example and pulls out parchment, ink and his <em>Advanced Potion Making</em> textbook. Hermione's not the only one with an essay to write, and Harry hasn't even started his yet.</p><p>After Harry has carefully read chapter fifteen of the textbook, and then made small additions or corrections to his rushed class notes, he begins to write the introduction to his essay in his best handwriting, taking care not to use his usual rushed scrawl. Granted, it's not much better and Snape probably won't even notice the difference, but at least the essay doesn't look like it was written fifteen minutes before class.</p><p>He manages to write seven inches for his essay before Transfiguration class, so when Hermione finds Harry in the Common Room that evening after another intense revision session adding another three inches to his Potions essay and flipping through Phyllida Spore's <em>One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi</em>, she can't contain her surprise.</p><p>'You're... working very hard on that essay,' Hermione says in the least casual tone Harry has ever heard. He glances up from a paragraph about fluxweed to smile at her in amusement.</p><p>'Yes,' he replies calmly, not above teasing his best friend of seven-going-on-eight years.</p><p>Hermione barely holds in her question for more than a few seconds. Reluctantly amused at his antics, Hermione drops down into the armchair opposite him and huffs. '<em>Why?</em> Not that this isn't a good thing, of course, but you've never cared before.'</p><p>Harry grins at her irrepressible Need to Know. 'I realised that Snape is exactly the sort of petty git to refuse to tutor someone in Defence just because they're failing <em>his</em> subject.'</p><p>'Don't call him that,' Hermione says automatically, but her lips twitch. 'Although I suppose he probably would do that,' she admits a second later. 'For good reason though! It wouldn't make sense for you to be spending extra time on a subject you're not failing, when you need to focus more elsewhere. ...Not that you're failing Potions, are you?'</p><p>Harry shakes his head. 'No. Although I'm not getting Outstandings, so in Snape's eyes, I might as well be.'</p><p>Hermione doesn't bother trying to deny that. Instead she confesses in a sinful tone, 'I think I'm sitting on an EE.'</p><p>'Oh no,' Harry says drily. 'The world is ending. Quick, grab your wands and run, the sky's about to cave in.'</p><p>Hermione rolls her eyes. 'Ha ha. Very funny.'</p><p>Harry gives her a cheeky smile before going back to his scribbles on the effect of fluxweed on the magical strength and potency of a potion it is used in, depending on whether the fluxweed is picked at full moon or not, if it is in bloom and whether it has been added whole, chopped, shredded or as a fine paste or extract.</p><p>For several seconds there is only the sound of Harry scribbling, the murmur of the Common Room (muffled by Harry's Charms) and their quiet breathing. Harry could let this silence continue, he knows; he could let their conversation go.</p><p>He decides not to.</p><p>'And I was thinking a bit over the weekend. I... I've decided I really don't want to fail,' Harry says as casually as he can, managing only marginally better than Hermione had earlier. It doesn't help that 110% of Hermione's focus is suddenly locked onto him. She has a lot of focus. It's rather nerve-wracking. 'I don't want to fail at all. In anything.' He glances up at her before looking back down at his essay with great determination and not much actual concentration. 'It's my last year, after all. And I've never really tried my best before, have I? I've just sort of... mucked about a bit and crammed at the last minute.'</p><p>'You never got a chance before,' Hermione says gently, her voice comforting and reassuring in all the ways Harry needs right now. 'You've always had a lot to deal with, Harry. It's natural that other things would be your priority.'</p><p>'What, like a psychopathic, genocidal maniac out for my blood?' Harry asks flippantly, and gets a flat look for his trouble.</p><p>'Yes,' Hermione huffs. 'They do tend to be rather distracting, you know.'</p><p>Harry laughs. 'I know.'</p><p>'I suppose you would,' Hermione says with false haughtiness, dropping the act a moment later to smile at him. 'I'm glad for you. This is wonderful.'</p><p>'Of course you'd think so,' Harry says teasingly.</p><p>Hermione's smile is mostly unrepentant and only a little abashed. 'Knowledge is key,' she says primly. 'It unlocks a lot of very interesting doors, you know.'</p><p><em>And some cages, too</em>, Harry thinks but doesn't dare say. Good grades are a direct route to a good job, which is his ticket out of Privet Drive for good. Sirius had left Harry 12 Grimmauld Place, but it was completely trashed by Death Eaters after the Fidelius was broken during the war, and is currently uninhabitable. Harry is, technically, homeless. Or at least, he will be at the end of June, when he graduates and leaves behind the only real home he's ever known, and is forced to either camp out in the dilapidated wreck that is now Grimmauld Place, or pay for a room in the Leaky Cauldron for some undetermined amount of time. Harry knows he's inherited money, but he doesn't know if he's inherited enough to buy a <em>house</em>. Those tend to be expensive.</p><p>Harry has already left the Dursleys once. He never wants to see them again, and he definitely doesn't want to have to beg for the use of their spare room. He's not even sure they'd take him, now that he's eighteen and no longer legally their problem.</p><p>It's that or taking advantage of the Weasleys' kindness despite their limited funds but limitless love, and Harry would feel guiltily grateful for it - especially since he knows he'd never be allowed to contribute some sort of rent. Molly would never hear of it. She'd probably set her knitting needles on him just for suggesting it.</p><p>'My mum and dad got good grades, too,' Harry says suddenly, taking himself by surprise with his abrupt willingness to share. He doesn't know where this is coming from, but he can't make himself regret it. This is Hermione, after all - he can trust her with a lot more than this. He knows because he already has.</p><p>'They were Head Girl and Boy, weren't they?' Hermione asks carefully, doing her best to be sensitive of his feelings. 'They'd have to have gotten very good OWL results for that.'</p><p>Harry smiles faintly. 'Apparently even Sirius managed to get his act together long enough to get a lot of Os and EEs, although not as many Os as Remus or mum. I think he said he tied with dad. I know they both got Os in Transfiguration and Defence.'</p><p>Hermione smiles gently at him. 'And you want to do them proud?' she guesses.</p><p>Harry clears his throat. 'Yeah,' he admits quietly.</p><p>'Well, I think that's a very admirable goal,' Hermione declares after a beat of silence. She leaves her seat to reach across and give him a brief, warm hug. 'Although I think it's probably worth mentioning that they're already incredibly, overwhelmingly proud of you, Harry. And they love you, very much.'</p><p>Harry doesn't reply to that - not because he has nothing to say, but because he physically can't. His thanks gets stuck in his suddenly too-tight throat.</p><p>When Harry goes to bed later that night, all ten and a half glorious inches of his Potions essay tucked in his bag, looking nearly as long and complicated as Hermione's twelve inch monster, her words are still warm and echoing in his heart.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Fun fact: absolutely none of this was in my original rough plans. Jenkins wasn't even supposed to be a named character. She literally had one tiny scene and that was it. This fic was supposed to be quick, 20k max; a simple get-in-get-out romance.</p><p>...Look how that turned out.</p><p>If you want to yell at someone for my slow pacing... me too. My muse is ridiculous and incorrigible. Blame her, not me!</p><p>Oh well. At least we get some more Snape next chapter??? :D </p><p> </p><p><b>For anyone that is frustrated by Harry:</b> His reluctance to talk is actually inspired by my own experience of trying to convince a close friend to report a sexual assault. She waited two weeks to tell anyone anything and even when she did, she only told friends, not the authorities. She just wanted to forget that it had ever happened. When someone is in a bad place like that, it can be really difficult to change their minds (and was incredibly frustrating for me at the time) but what I ended up learning from the whole messy experience is that the best thing you can do is be patient, which is what I am trying to show with Hermione.</p><p><b>It will be resolved!</b> I promise haha. So please bear with me! Because sadly irl it can sometimes be incredibly hard just to talk. And Harry doesn't exactly have the best track record with talking...</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Very Different Kinds of Letters</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A/N: I had to rewrite this entire chapter three different times and edit it a bunch more, and it was the most painful thing of my entire bloody life.</p><p>I just wanted you to know that, so that you could feel my pain. Because there is lots of pain.</p><p>So much pain.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After a two hour lesson in Herbology on Tuesday morning, Harry realises that he is a genius.</p><p>'I'm a genius,' he announces to Ron in the library. Hermione, who is coming back to their table lugging a heavy pile of textbooks, looks bemused and slightly skeptical at Harry's discovery.</p><p>'Yeah, sure, me too,' Ron says blithely, not at all convinced of Harry's genius.</p><p>Harry pokes him. 'No, seriously, look at this - Herbology and Potions overlap with the ingredients... if I learn this stuff about shrivelfigs, I'm revising two subjects at once!'</p><p>'Cool,' Ron says, mildly interested, if only to shrink the amount of time he needs to spend revising.</p><p>Hermione is not nearly so unaffected. 'You're only realising this <em>now</em>?' she despairs, disbelieving and a little pained.</p><p>'Have the curriculums crossed over before?' Harry asks blankly. He doesn't remember them doing so, but it's certainly possible that it happened and he never noticed.</p><p>Hermione looks ready to have a small breakdown. 'Harry, they've <em>always</em> crossed over,' she says slowly, looking a bit constipated at his ignorance. 'Lots of subjects are useful in topics in other subjects. They're all magic; they're all interconnected.'</p><p>Harry and Ron absorb this silently.</p><p>'Huh,' Ron says.</p><p>'I guess that makes sense,' Harry offers.</p><p>Hermione sighs loudly and begins to read one of her horribly thick textbooks; no doubt she is seeking refuge in the only other reliable source of knowledge and intelligence at the table.</p><p>She's certainly not going to find it inside Harry's thick skull.</p><p>• • • • • •</p><p>Transfiguration passes mostly without note; the only thing worthy of drawing any sort of reaction out of Harry is Professor McGonagall's announcement that, if they so choose, and if they are doing very well in their studies, final year Transfiguration students may elect to become Animagi.</p><p>Well, they can <em>try</em> at least - McGonagall makes it very clear to all of them that the transformation is exceedingly difficult and has a very high rate of failure. Unbeknownst to her, she doesn't need to tell her trio of lions - they're already painfully well aware of how tricky the process is. Ron had had to restart the entire thing twice because he kept accidentally damaging the mandrake leaves in his mouth that were supposed to stay there, whole and unharmed, for a <em>month</em>. Hermione had struggled with the visualisation stage, Harry with all the bloody meditating in the beginning.</p><p>At the news that becoming an Animagus would get them bonus points in their NEWT practical, Hermione perks up. Harry smiles at her predictable interest, but frowns when Professor McGonagall sets them an essay on the transformation process for homework.</p><p>Completing his homework takes the entirety of his free periods, so it's not until after dinner that Harry finally gets to sit down in a quiet corner of the Common Room and attempt to understand the notes Snape had given him.</p><p>After some time reading through the information, even Harry can tell that they're not Ancient Runes - and he's never properly studied runes in his life. But he vaguely recalls what they're supposed to look like, having glimpsed them in Hermione's books and notes over the years, and they definitely don't look like <em>this</em>.</p><p>The symbols are comprised entirely of straight lines - no curves in sight - and have a very regular, linear pattern to them. It's almost like somebody decided to make tally marks into a secret language, except that the lines vary more, and each symbol has a small circle at the beginning and end, almost like two hoops waiting to be clasped.</p><p>A lot of sighing and one quick trip to the library later, Harry is back in the Common Room poring over a horribly thick book on <em>Old, Dead and Ancient Languages of Eurasia</em>. He skim reads every chapter, but doesn't find anything that matches the notes Snape has given him. He gets close once, but even that hope is quickly snuffed out.</p><p>Harry stares at the notes. Twenty five symbols stare back at him. Knowing which letter of the alphabet is missing is impossible, since Harry doesn't have any sort of reference to figure out which of the letters he <em>does</em> have. All he has are the strange symbols made up of intersecting lines, each assigned a strange phrase, such as a large X with a horizontal line through its centre, like a six pointed star, which has "<em>nullify toxic fumes</em>" written neatly beside it.</p><p>It just doesn't make any sense.</p><p>Harry huffs. Of course it doesn't make any sense. He got these notes from <em>Snape</em>; he should've expected some sort of challenge. The man's probably done this on purpose, for Merlin knows what reason. Maybe he's testing to see how determined Harry really is to have one of his least favourite teachers tutor him in Defence. Maybe Snape secretly thinks he'll give up and quit.</p><p><em>That</em> thought gives Harry a renewed burst of motivation, and he abandons the library book in favour of reading through Snape's notes again as carefully as he can.</p><p>The book proves useful for one thing, at least: Harry spent so long looking at dead languages that when he turns back to Snape's notes and squints at the unfamiliar symbols, he abruptly realises that he's not looking at a normal written language at all. Memories of primary school lessons on pyramids and Ancient Egyptians float in front of his eyes, hazy and half-remembered.</p><p>He's looking at <em>hieroglyphics</em>.</p><p>The symbols aren't letters, they're <em>glyphs</em>.</p><p>The realisation makes Harry want to hit his head against the wall. Resigned to the inevitable, he packs up his bag and trods back down to the library - <em>again</em> - and claims an empty table in the Languages section. There aren't many other students in this area of the library, and once Harry has hidden himself behind a bookshelf that doesn't contain any books on Ancient Runes - the only subject a student would search these shelves for - he's fairly certain he'll be left in peace.</p><p>The only letters Harry intends to look at for the next two hours are the ones Snape has given him.</p><p>After returning the mostly useless book on dead Eurasian languages, Harry hunts through the shelves until he finds three books that look promising: <em>Forgotten Scripts of Forgotten Worlds</em>, <em>Wizarding Writing Systems: Uses and Development</em> and <em>Magical Symbols and their Meanings</em>.</p><p>The Magical Symbols book quickly proves irrelevant when Harry realises that it means <em>symbols</em> in a much more general and broader sense; the first chapter is all about the significance of magical plants and the language of flowers. <em>Forgotten Scripts of Forgotten Worlds</em> is slightly more helpful, but for all the wrong reasons - after discussing Egyptian hieroglyphs, Nsibidi and the Glagolitic script, the fourth chapter dives into Parseltongue, and Harry gets sucked into reading about it for nearly twenty minutes before he realises he's gone completely off track.</p><p>The final book is the most promising. <em>Wizarding Writing Systems</em> begins with a twenty six page introduction that Harry briefly skims before skipping entirely, but then delves into a range of ways that wizards have written and communicated historically, including carving runes into stone.</p><p>Since the notes Snape gave Harry repeatedly mention carving, he reads the chapter on runes from beginning to end, and learns a number of interesting things. Firstly, the material the runes are carved into can have massive effects, as can the tools used and whether or not the runes are <em>covered in blood </em>after they've been carved.</p><p>(Harry decides rather quickly that he will <em>not</em> be painting his symbols with blood, thank you very much.)</p><p>Wood, stone, quartz, amethyst and moonstone are all considered perfectly acceptable materials for runestones or other carvings according to the book. The author also goes into excruciating detail about the theorised differences between runes carved magically or by hand; some argue magically-drawn runes are more magically potent, whilst others insist that carving the runes with a chisel and hammer before "filling" the runes with magic is the more "pure" technique. Harry frankly doesn't know enough to even guess which theory is correct, but he makes some vague notes on the topic and moves on.</p><p>The rest of the book is mostly useless, and Harry still doesn't find any language, alphabet or hieroglyphics that match what Snape has given him. He does, however, find some useful information in the very last chapter of the <em>Wizarding Writing Systems</em> book.</p><p>The chapter is long and discusses older and alternative forms of writing, and Harry almost dismisses it until a diagram filled with strange symbols catches his eye.</p><p>What he reads makes him want to bash his head off the desk. And maybe the wall. Or the floor.</p><p>
  <em>Logographic languages were some of the first written systems to be developed in the Wizarding and Muggle Worlds. Instead of letters and alphabets, logographic writing systems are comprised primarily of logograms, which are characters or symbols that represent a word rather than a letter. Examples of logographic writing systems include Chinese characters, kanji and Egyptian hieroglyphics. Similarly, ideograms have been historically used in ancient writing systems, wherein a symbol represents an idea or concept, and are still in limited use today. Pictograms, such as those in the ancient indigenous language Nsibidi, are an example of ideograms.</em>
</p><p>So Snape's mysterious symbols might not be hieroglyphics after all. They could be... logograms. Or ideograms. Whatever that means.</p><p>Harry sighs. Loudly.</p><p>Ancient, dead languages, he concludes, are very confusing.</p><p>Frankly, it's all very odd, and Harry doesn't have the faintest clue how this weird hieroglyphic-or-possibly-ideographic language of vertical, horizontal and diagonal lines is supposed to make him better at Defence.</p><p>Still, a promise is a promise - and a challenge is a challenge - so Harry starts by copying out the symbols Snape had given him onto a blank piece of parchment and matching the short, odd phrases with their counterparts and writing them directly underneath. He then sets about with the mind-melting task of attempting to memorise twenty five completely unfamiliar symbols and their corresponding phrases with absolutely no context or even simple explanation as to what they're <em>for</em>.</p><p>Harry still has no idea which language it is exactly that he's actually learning, but after checking a couple of other textbooks - including one on modern languages when he gets truly desperate - and gaining no further understanding, he simply resigns himself to ignorance and moves on.</p><p>It gets worse when the notes reveal that the symbols are somehow supposed to be "linked". How, when or why, Harry doesn't have the faintest clue. All he can discern is that at some point after they're carved but before they're activated with magic, the hieroglyphs-slash-ideograms are supposed to be "linked".</p><p>When Harry realises that he's going to have to ask Snape to explain all of this, because it's about as straightforward as a maze, and that Snape will undoubtedly be unimpressed with him, he gives up for the evening and goes to bed.</p><p>Staring at the hangings of his four poster bed, Harry wonders whether Snape uses the term "symbols" because even <em>he</em> doesn't know what they are or what the proper linguistic term is.</p><p>Harry groans into his pillow.</p><p>• • • • • •</p><p>Hermione is appropriately fascinated when he regales her with his discoveries the next morning over breakfast, whilst Ron looks like he lost all understanding seconds after Harry began talking. Realising that his best mate has apparently turned into a second Hermione, and not nearly awake enough to follow the eager conversation on ancient, dead languages going on over bowls of porridge, Ron seeks refuge with the twins and strikes up a debate about Quidditch leagues, which he enjoys just as much as Harry does his ramblings about Snape's notes.</p><p>However, all complaints from Harry about how much the strange language doesn't make a lick of sense (how can it not be mentioned in a single library book? <em>Seriously</em>) are soon brought to an abrupt halt when they reluctantly begin to make their way to DADA.</p><p>'It'll be fine,' Hermione says firmly, looping her arm through Harry's and glaring at any girls who look like they might approach him with a letter. 'If Jenkins does anything, I'll hex her myself, and then go straight to Professor McGonagall.'</p><p>The announcement that Hermione is willing to hex a teacher - who she isn't even referring to by their proper title, Harry notes in amazement - is so mind-boggling that Harry forgets to be apprehensive in the face of his own amusement.</p><p>'I would pay to watch that,' Ron says wistfully.</p><p>Jenkins has once again changed tactics with her approach to Harry, because she is neither blatantly flirtatious, openly pandering or icily distant. Instead, she spends the entire two hours demonstrating a range of complicated Defensive spells to the class; it takes Harry about ten minutes and a display of spiralling rings of fire to realise that she's <em>purposely</em> <em>showing off</em>.</p><p>Merlin.</p><p>It's better than anything else he's had from her before, though, so Harry stays for the entire class and takes note of as many of the incantations and wand movements Jenkins uses as he can. He doesn't get them all, of course, but he and Hermione manage to fill in some of each other's gaps, and there's always the library for the few that they miss altogether.</p><p>'That was awesome,' Ron says happily once they've left the classroom two hours later. He'd not drifted off or daydreamed once, and had barely been able to take his eyes off the magic bursting from the tip of Jenkins' wand. At Hermione's frosty glare and Harry's scrunched face, Ron quickly snaps out of his daze. 'She's still a git, though!' he says hurriedly.</p><p>'It was the most ridiculous display I've ever seen,' Hermione says sniffily, glaring back at Jenkins' classroom door with fierce loyalty and disdainful disgust. 'What is she, a peacock? It was like a mating display, honestly. Does she really think she can impress Harry with some flashy spells? After all the nonsense she's spewed?'</p><p>Admittedly, it probably would've worked on Harry had he not already seen a much angrier, darker and more spiteful side to Jenkins, but he decides to keep that information to himself.</p><p>'I still think we should go to Professor McGonagall,' Hermione adds, watching Harry's face closely for a reaction to her words.</p><p>'Er,' Harry says uncertainly. His heart rate has suddenly picked up and he doesn't know why. 'Right... maybe... maybe later. Can we... can we just talk about this later?'</p><p>Hermione doesn't say anything else after that, but she keeps glancing at Harry with a pensive expression on her face.</p><p>(A tiny little voice in the back of his head whispers that maybe she's right. Part of Harry ignores that voice as stubbornly as he has up until now. But another part of him... another part of him starts to finally listen.)</p><p>Potions is another long, detailed lecture - this time on the uses of fluxweed in healing potions, which makes Harry smile because he'd read about fluxweed only two days ago and had even included it in his essay - and Snape once again sticks to his lesson plan, doesn't insult or interrogate anybody and doesn't even mention House points.</p><p>It's all very strange and confusing and a little bit brilliant, but nobody dares to mention that to Snape.</p><p>Harry once again stays behind after class, nodding at Ron and Hermione to go on ahead without him. The classroom empties quickly, only one or two students glancing at Harry questioningly when he doesn't move to leave with his friends. He ignores them and focuses on the man dressed all in black flicking through their essays to make sure everyone has handed one in.</p><p>'If you have another ridiculous request to make of me, Potter, the answer is no,' Snape says flatly when he looks up and realises that Harry still hasn't left.</p><p>'I just wanted to ask you a couple of questions. If that's alright? Sir.'</p><p>Snape sighs but doesn't immediately begin cursing him, so Harry takes his silence as permission and approaches the teacher's desk, pulling the notes from his bag as he does so.</p><p>'Twenty five symbols proved too much for you, Potter?' Snape asks drily when he recognises the parchment Harry lays out on his desk.</p><p>Harry shoots him an unimpressed look before returning his attention to the parchment, scanning for the paragraph he wants.</p><p>'You wrote here that the symbols should be carved sequentially and then "linked",' Harry says, pointing at the paragraph and looking up at Snape questioningly. 'And there's another reference... here, to "linking" symbols before powering them with magic. Is "linking" simply another term for some sort of spell? Or is it something else? I got a copy of <em>Old, Dead and Ancient Eurasian Languages </em>out of the library, but it doesn't even mention this language, and neither does <em>Wizarding Writing Systems</em> or <em>Forgotten Scripts of Forgotten Worlds</em>.' Harry pauses and eyes Snape hesitantly for a moment before finally asking, 'What <em>is</em> this? This language? What does it <em>mean</em>? I couldn't find anything on it anywhere.'</p><p>Snape looks taken aback for a moment, but he quickly recovers and replaces his emotionless mask once more. 'I see you've at least taken my warning seriously,' he murmurs, pushing aside the notes he had first given Harry to reveal the much messier notes Harry had written himself. His eyes dance over them, devouring the words Harry had scribbled down in an attempt to understand everything.</p><p>'I <em>am</em> trying, sir,' Harry says earnestly. 'I just don't get some of the references in your notes, and I can't look this up in a book without the language's name.'</p><p>'Linking is quite a literal reference,' Snape says after a moment of skimming Harry's handwritten notes. 'The circles attached to either side of each symbol are not part of the symbols, but rather a representation of notches. The symbols are carved out to form a sequence, and then a straight line is drawn between each of the symbols, connecting them by the notches. Imagine it like putting beads on a length of string to form a bracelet.'</p><p>Harry silently absorbs that for a moment before nodding. 'Okay.'</p><p>'The links are shown as straight lines in the notes, but they can be curved, angled or extended as desired. As they are essentially meaningless beyond their function of acting as a conduit along which magic can travel, it does not matter how long, short or right-angled the links are. They can run over edges and corners, as can the notches. There are no traditional rules in place with these symbols.</p><p>'This is perhaps the only modern writing system in existence that is intended to be written with magic, and as one continuous sequence rather than separate grouped sequences, as is the case with letters and words.'</p><p>Harry stares down at his notes in surprise, and then looks back up to Snape, eyebrows raised. 'It's a magical language?' he repeats in mild amazement. 'That's - ...cool.'</p><p>Snape suddenly looks incredibly long-suffering. 'How eloquent of you, Potter. No, it is not simply <em>cool</em>, boy, it is <em>revolutionary</em>. Do you realise how significant this is for runic warding and enchanting?'</p><p>Harry stares at Snape for a second before shaking his head.</p><p>Snape mutters something that is no doubt extremely insulting before he deigns to explain.</p><p>'Traditionally, when using Ancient Runes or another similar language to engrave magic into an object, the runes have to be carved onto every face. So for a plain cube, six runes must be carved. More complicated shapes with many more faces require many more runes to ensure an even distribution of the magic and eliminate weak points in the enchantment. But that is assuming that only one rune is required for your spell. Only the most basic and rudimentary of spells require <em>one</em> rune, and such simple spells are easily broken.</p><p>'So let me make a much more powerful spell, then, and create a sequence of sixteen runes that will protect my cube. Now I must carve sixteen runes into each face, using ninety six runes in total, and in doing so completely overwhelm my cube with magic. Such a heavy concentration of magic is unstable, draining for the caster and about as subtle as a Weasley firework. Do you see the problem?'</p><p>Harry nods.</p><p>'This is why enchanting objects with runic carving fell out of style. It cannot adequately hold complicated spells over a long period of time; too often the magic destabilises and collapses in on itself, resulting in extremely destructive explosions of pure magic. Not even Seamus Finnigan or Neville Longbottom at their most inept could hold a candle to the devastation a destabilised runic system carved by a powerful wizard can cause.</p><p>'But this - this <em>links the symbols</em>. Instead of separate runes with separate magic, the links act as channels and the magic is <em>shared</em>. Don't you see, Potter?! The links are the key to solving many if not all of the problems posed by runic enchantments! It is not restricted to a single dimensional plane, nor the conventional limits of modern writing systems. The magic will not act antagonistically because all of it is shared!</p><p>'I can take my theoretical cube, and carve a line of linked symbols across it in such a way that it crosses all six faces, whilst only using <em>one line</em> of symbols. Do you see, Potter? I do not need six or sixteen or ninety six individual runes! I only need one sequence, one line, one singular spell, which will not destabilise or collapse because <em>there are no other spells</em>!'</p><p>It takes a second, but then everything clicks and Harry suddenly gets it. '<em>Oh</em>.'</p><p>'Yes, <em>oh</em>! This could completely transform modern enchanting and warding!'</p><p>'You mean... it hasn't already? Why aren't we being taught this?' Harry asks, looking back down at the parchment covered in notes on the symbolic linking system. 'It's not that difficult to understand once you've had someone explain it a bit and memorised the symbols. Why isn't this being taught alongside Ancient Runes?'</p><p>Snape gives Harry a condescendingly amused look. 'Because I only invented it ten days ago,' he says drily.</p><p>Harry's mouth falls open. 'You <em>invented</em> this?! That's...' <em>Seriously impressive</em>.</p><p>'Despite whatever aspersions you may throw on my character, Potter, I <em>am</em> capable of independent thought,' Snape drawls.</p><p>'That's why I couldn't find it in the library,' Harry realises abruptly. He groans. 'I spent so much time...' he mutters, running a hand over his face.</p><p>'It no doubt did you good to actually open a book,' Snape says blandly, but he looks mildly guilty for a moment, glancing down at his notes, which are still strewn across his desk. 'I admit that I... had not written these notes with an audience in mind; they were only to strengthen my own recollection and aid me should I forget anything. I... it was not intentional if they were difficult to understand.'</p><p>Harry blinks. He doesn't think he will ever get used to hearing Snape apologise, even if he does do it in the most subtle, roundabout way possible.</p><p>Bloody Slytherins.</p><p>'Uh, it's okay,' Harry says after a moment. 'I got through it in the end, with, er, sheer repetition...'</p><p>'I suppose your stubbornness does have some uses, after all,' Snape says sarcastically, his lips twitching.</p><p>Harry doesn't know whether to laugh or glare at him. Granted, Harry is definitely being mocked, but it feels... different. There is no bite behind Snape's words. Merely... light teasing. Like a joke.</p><p>Dear Merlin. Either Snape has gone batty, or Harry has, if he seriously thinks <em>Snape</em> is <em>joking</em> with him.</p><p>Ron is probably going to send him to St Mungo's at this rate.</p><p>'So... the spell won't collapse in on itself because linking the symbols means that it's only one spell, rather than fifty all piled on top of each other,' Harry says, working through the concept in his head. When Snape nods, he rummages in his bag to pull out a Self-Inking Quill and begins scribbling more notes on the back of one of his sheets of parchment. 'Okay... so what do the phrases mean?'</p><p>'Phrases?'</p><p>'Yeah, the phrases matched to each symbol,' Harry says, pointing to the sheet of parchment onto which he'd meticulously copied out all of the symbols and their corresponding phrase into two neat rows.</p><p>'Ah,' Snape says in understanding, and his mouth curls with a satisfied smile. 'Yes, this is perhaps the most ingenious part of all.'</p><p>He looks so smug and proud of himself that Harry seriously considers not asking the question Snape is clearly waiting for - but his curiosity wins out in the end (and Hermione would kill him for passing up the chance for more information) so he gives in and takes the bait long-sufferingly.</p><p>'What do you mean?' Harry asks, trying to keep his tone from becoming flat and sardonic. If Snape is digging for compliments, he's not going to get any.</p><p>Apparently he's not, however, because instead of stroking his own ego and pulling an impression of Lockhart at his most revolting, Snape deigns to finally explain the phrases that have been driving Harry bonkers for the last twenty four hours.</p><p>'A significant problem with runic enchantment is that the more complicated the enchantment, the more runes are required. Eventually either limited space or magical over-saturation will prevent any more runes from being carved into an object or surface. Each rune is essentially its own spell, and too many spells in one place on one surface will begin to act antagonistically towards each other. They will react with other nearby runes and begin causing chain reactions that spark off of other runes and systematically destabilise the entire construction.</p><p>'If more than one person was involved in the enchantment, their differing magical signatures only compound the problem and make it even worse. Wizards, witches and morons have been known to blow themselves sky high trying to find a way around it. As ever, the ineptitude of society has prevailed, and no reasonable or functional solution was ever found.</p><p>'The question, then, is how to reduce the number of runes needed whilst maintaining the effects produced. How do you achieve the same or more with less? And the answer, of course, is blindingly obvious and only moderately complicated, and it is a testament to the stagnancy of the modern wizarding world and idiocy of the average citizen that this solution was not reached sooner. The puzzle of runic enchantment should have been solved decades, even <em>centuries</em> ago - instead, it was abandoned.</p><p>'So, Potter, tell me: how do you solve this dilemma?'</p><p>Harry stares at Snape blankly for a moment before gazing down at the symbols in front of him. How to create the same spells whilst using less runes and no overlapping magic...? It sounds bloody difficult, and Harry gets the sneaking suspicion that Snape's idea of "moderately complicated" is anyone else's idea of "migraine-inducing" or perhaps "overwhelmingly horrible".</p><p>'Er... change the size of the runes?' Harry offers eventually. It's the best he can come up with in two minutes and with no actual experience with Ancient Runes or enchantment.</p><p>'The amount of magic and hence power of a spell that a rune can hold is directly proportional to its size,' Snape replies, and it takes Harry less than a second to realise that he's being told he's completely wrong. Not that the news comes as a shock. 'Enlarging the runes will enlarge the problem, and shrinking the runes will reduce their effectiveness and still potentially create smaller cascades and collapses.'</p><p>When it becomes clear after another couple of seconds of thought that Harry doesn't have the faintest idea how to solve this conundrum, Snape either takes pity on him or loses his patience and explains his solution.</p><p>'What you must realise, and what very few witches or wizards ever fully appreciate, is that magic is not bound to something as flimsy and inconsequential as language. Words are a construct created entirely by the human mind that we have used to develop more advanced methods of communication and magic manipulation. Yet all around us is proof that words are not even a basic requirement for magic. Do you think unicorns spend hours every day memorising Latin? Or that thestrals need to cast an Invisibility Spell to render themselves unseen?'</p><p>'No,' Harry says, frowning in thought.</p><p>'Exactly. The very existence of magical creatures proves that language as we know it is not necessary to possess and use magic. Indeed, it seems to be required for more complicated and abstract spells, but so too is an increased intellect, and it is difficult to separate one from the other when studying magical creatures. And then there are magical plants. Do you think the Whomping Willow has a brain? Thoughts? Sentience? How, then, is it capable of all that it is, without an internal monologue? Without <em>words</em>? The only logical conclusion that can be drawn is that the words are not necessary; only the magic. Pure <em>magic</em> gives the tree properties it otherwise could not have, not Latin or runes or rituals.</p><p>'But what of humans? What of us? Do our more complicated spells require words? The Whomping Willow, after all, cannot levitate or shield or conjure balls of fire. Do forms of magic that extend beyond its most pure and natural states require a guiding hand, a focal point, something to manipulate the raw energy into its intended form?'</p><p>Harry's head is spinning. Half of him is aching to scribble down everything Snape is saying; the other half is desperate to focus all of his attention on the words spilling from Snape's mouth like liquid gold. It's <em>fascinating</em>. The real-world application of a complex magical problem is so much more stimulating than listening to Binns drone or Professor McGonagall describe spells they'll never realistically use, like turning birds into water goblets. Granted, that particular spell is used to teach the methods, concepts and intricacies of Transfiguration, but it still doesn't change the fact that it is an utterly useless spell.</p><p>But <em>this</em> - this is pure magical theory, but it's complex and intriguing and <em>useful</em>, and Harry has always appreciated useful magic.</p><p>Snape's eyes are like twin eclipses, dark in his pale face and locked onto Harry. The man looks more alive than he has all summer, and Harry realises with surprise that he's actually <em>excited</em>. This is Snape in his most natural and contented form, revelling in the details and discoveries of complicated magical problems that he has just invented a way to fix.</p><p>Snape, Harry realises distantly, is very, very smart. Then again, what else did he expect from the man that rewrote his Advanced Potions textbook at <em>sixteen</em>?</p><p>'And so it would be all too easy for an ignoramus of an intellectual to conclude - as so many have done - that words are a requirement for "Greater Magics". There is a reason that we named ourselves the Homo <em>sapiens</em> after all; we are utterly convinced of our superior intellects. Magical plants and creatures must simply use a lesser, inferior form of magic that is entirely unconscious and cannot be purposely manipulated by the organism, or if so to a very limited degree and with the presence of a moderately-developed intelligence. Words are the answer, these Greatest Minds of our Time have concluded, to the more powerful and purposeful forms of magic.'</p><p>Snape sneers. His disgust is painted clearly across his face, and Harry waits eagerly for the big reveal; the moment when Snape will explain the answer to everything, and the pieces of this infinitely complicated puzzle will click into place in Harry's head.</p><p>'If words are so inherently essential to magic, then tell me this, Potter: do witches and wizards the world over use only Latin in their magics?'</p><p>Harry blinks. 'Er.'</p><p>'Do you think, Potter, that wizards in Australia and Poland and Cambodia and Colombia all use Latin for their spell-casting? Even the indigenous, the tribal, the shamans? Do witches burning herbs in Nigeria use the same ritual chant as Seamus Finnigan's mother in the middle of Ireland? Despite the continents and oceans between them, and the nature of variation in human languages and communication?</p><p>'And what of wizards before Latin was invented? Did they simply never cast a spell? Then what of Godric Gryffindor? He was well known for his Gaelic mother tongue and a speaker of Pictish, and Salazar Slytherin often cast in Parseltongue. Are the accounts of their spells mere delusions? What of those that cannot speak? Do mute wizards live their lives as Squibs?</p><p>'Of course they don't - they learn non-verbal magic. A fascinating ability that even you have a basic grasp of. Yet they still repeat the Latin of the spell in their mind, great philosophers and pathetic halfwits argue; the Latin words are still required, even if they are not spoken.</p><p>'And to that preposterous proposal I ask this: explain to me, if you so please, the existence of Uagadou, one of the most famous schools for magic in the world, which is coincidentally located in Africa and has existed for more than a thousand years. Africa, which you will note has only ever spoken Latin in any meaningful way in its most northern regions; Africa, which has languages ranging from Xhosa to Somali to Berber to Arabic. Africa, which has records of magical practices using an ancient language called Nsibidi from almost seven thousand years ago, long before the creation of Latin.</p><p>'Uagadou consistently produces witches and wizards capable of astounding feats in self-Transfiguration, Astronomy and Alchemy. They are renowned as the only major magical school to teach magic wandlessly from the very beginning. The current Supreme Mugwump of the ICW is a Uagadou graduate.</p><p>'And yet... they do not speak Latin. They likely don't know a word of it.'</p><p>Snape's hands are flat on his desk; he is leaning towards Harry with a startling intensity, as if there is nothing of greater importance than the words he is imparting. Part of Harry - the part that is totally enthralled - can almost believe that.</p><p>'What does this tell you, Potter?' Snape demands quietly.</p><p>Harry's brain feels like there is a firework going off inside it. 'The words don't matter,' he says in awed realisation. 'The words don't matter at all.'</p><p>'Exactly,' Snape says softly, his voice rich with quiet satisfaction. 'The words are meaningless. They are merely constructs we have dreamed up to simplify the process and make magic <em>easier</em>.' Snape's lip curls slightly. 'Which would not be so tragic, perhaps, were we not dunderheaded nitwits now utterly self-reliant on an inferior system of magical manipulation.'</p><p>Harry takes a moment to simply think through the massive shockwaves Snape is creating in his liquefied brain.</p><p>'There is a reason that magic is taught in any language other than the student's mother tongue,' Snape continues after a brief pause. His voice is becoming rough and hoarse again, but the man ignores it. 'Magic requires will, intent, <em>focus</em>. Powerful spells require total concentration, especially when they are first learned; students cannot afford to have other thoughts competing for their attention.</p><p>'Casting magic in English would be a nightmare. A Muggleborn would say <em>Shield! </em>to cast a Shield Charm and their mind would be filled with conflicting images of magical and physical shields; memories of playing with toy knights and wooden swords and shields, or perhaps the windshield of a car. Pureblood children would remember every Shield they've ever seen, which could include so many variations, and they'd confuse the lot; perhaps they'd even think of their parents, who have shielded them from everything, or they'll remember the coat of arms of their Ancient and Noble House.</p><p>'Magic needs absolute focus and intent. Learning spells in Latin is like learning words with no additional meanings attached; you will not hear <em>Protego</em> and remember five other different things. Even if you have witnessed the spell before, you will have witnessed its effect and so know what to expect; if anything the previous experience will only improve your performance. Do you see, Potter? Latin has no other associations for us, because it is a dead language, and by the time we are old enough to have memories attached to spells - remembering Shield Charms cast in the heat of battle, or whilst shaking in the middle of your Defence OWL - the magic is so practiced and ingrained that it does not matter.</p><p>'Accidental magic only proves it. Words are not necessary; only focus, intent and perhaps strong emotions or conviction. And that is a momentous and thrilling prospect, Potter, because it means something incredible: our magic is not limited by our words. We can achieve anything, and language cannot stop us. We must simply and wholeheartedly <em>believe, </em>and it will be so.</p><p>'Now hold that realisation in your mind, and remember our original problem of excessive runes in warding and enchanting. Consider what you have just comprehended, and then consider the puzzle before you. How do you enchant your simple cube?'</p><p>Harry's eyes drop from Snape's intense stare down to the parchment littering his desk. Snape is challenging him, pushing him to <em>understand</em>, and the thing is... <em>Harry wants to</em>.</p><p>His eyes lock onto the parchment with twenty five neat columns, displaying symbols and their odd corresponding phrases.</p><p>An X with a horizontal line through it, like a six-pointed star. <em>Nullify toxic fumes</em>.</p><p>Three parallel vertical lines with one middle horizontal line through all three. <em>Maintain object balance</em>.</p><p>A zigzag like a squashed capital M, with a short diagonal line at either end rising up halfway to end in notches. <em>Delay and contain explosions</em>.</p><p>Two angled brackets connected by two horizontal lines. <em>Shield external environment</em>.</p><p>Harry's mouth falls open slightly. 'You invented a new language,' he breathes out in awed disbelief.</p><p>Snape smirks. 'If the words have no inherent meaning, I shall give them my own,' he agrees. 'I do not need sixteen runes for a complicated sequence when I can simply decide that this one symbol creates an effect that is equal or even superior to that of sixteen runes.'</p><p>Harry is reeling. Snape hasn't just discovered a nifty new trick; he's literally <em>reinventing magic</em>.</p><p>This is... this is <em>unbelievable</em>.</p><p>'I shall believe it, and it shall be so,' Snape says triumphantly, as if he's quoting something. The man looks so deeply pleased with himself, but for once Harry thinks he's totally right to. Frankly, he's earned it, and if anyone has the right to be a smug bastard, it's Snape.</p><p><em>Holy shit</em>, Harry thinks faintly. <em>Snape has just... he's just flipped modern magic on its head and then obliterated it</em>.</p><p>
  <em>And he did it in a couple of months whilst under the influence of Cruciatus Overexposure.</em>
</p><p>Harry stares up at Severus Snape, a man who has created better Potions recipes, a range of spells and now an entirely new magical language. For the first time since he laid eyes on the dark, distant, dour Potions Master seven years ago, Harry has nothing but respect for this insanely intelligent and creative man.</p><p>He has never been more grateful that Severus Snape was Dumbledore's man. If Voldemort had known about the brilliance of the mind hiding behind a curtain of black hair... he'd have been delighted. Harry thinks he might even have been <em>jealous</em>.</p><p>Harry's eyes drop back down to the parchment inked with a discovery significant enough to make Snape famous for the rest of his life and possibly even beyond. A discovery that the mercurial man has trusted Harry with, that he has shared despite his no doubt many misgivings against the Boy Who Lived Twice. Harry is abruptly aware of how incredibly lucky he is, to be given this chance at all.</p><p><em>Hermione's head is going to explode</em>.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A/N: this chapter was an absolute pain in the arse to write, but I got there in the end.</p><p>I'm not even studying linguistics. I'm a SCIENCE student ffs. Learning what logograms and morphemes and Pictish and Nsibidi and bloody graphemes and ideograms are is literally giving me a headache.</p><p>Help.</p><p>Welp, in any case, I hope this chapter made a lick of sense to you all, because I spent so long researching and rewriting that I kind of want to die a little. Also I don't have a beta because I fully intend to die like a man so I can't even check if my crappy explanation of what a logographic/ideographic language is makes sense. And then there's the magical theory that I just dumped on you all as well. Dear god.</p><p>If corona doesn't end the world, me trying to write this fic definitely will, because I'm going to go insane and murder everybody. Just a lil head's up.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Symbols, Silver and Shame</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A/N: this chapter is the longest so far at over 8.4k. I didn't want to split it and have a filler chapter, so.... lucky you, I guess :P</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>'We thought you'd died,' Ron says flatly.</p><p>'Sorry,' Harry mumbles apologetically, running his hand through his hair.</p><p>Ron is so annoyed - or perhaps perturbed - that he doesn't even glance at the food covering Gryffindor table and instead keeps his eyes trained on Harry.</p><p>'I didn't realise the time,' Harry offers as a feeble explanation.</p><p>Ron just looks at him. 'Hermione got back from Double Ancient Runes before you. Ancient Runes, Harry. <em>Ancient Runes</em>.'</p><p>Harry sighs slightly.</p><p>'How in Merlin's saggy pants did you manage to lose track of <em>two whole hours</em>?' Ron asks incredulously. 'What'd you do, fall asleep in a bloody cauldron?!'</p><p>'No.'</p><p>'...<em>Well?</em> What the bleeding belladonna <em>were</em> you doing then?!'</p><p>'It wasn't Jenkins, was it?' Hermione finally cuts in from Harry's right, and suddenly Harry realises why his best friends are so concerned.</p><p>'No,' he repeats, this time much more firmly. 'No, I...' He wants to groan. 'I was talking to Snape.'</p><p>Ron takes this like a silent smack to the face. '<em>What?</em>' he blurts eventually.</p><p>Harry studies a nearby bowl of vegetable rice. It's very interesting, with the creamy grains freckled through with orange, green, yellow and red...</p><p>'<em>Harry</em>.'</p><p>Harry stops pretending to admire the rice bowl and glances between his two best friends uncertainly. 'Look,' he says at last. 'I know it sounds... barmy, but I swear I'm telling the truth. I asked Snape about the language in the notes he gave me, and...' Harry shifts around in his seat so that he's facing Hermione more fully. 'It turns out that <em>he invented it</em>.'</p><p>Hermione's suspicion is quickly replaced by shock that morphs rapidly into excitement. 'He invented a language?' she asks eagerly. 'Why? For Defence Against the Dark Arts? Oh, does this mean it'll be harder to counter spells, because other people won't know what you're saying?'</p><p>'No, it's not supposed to be spoken out loud. It's a written language, mostly. Snape created twenty five symbols that each act like a spell. When they're carved into a surface, linked and then activated, they hold the spell until the magic runs out.'</p><p>Hermione frowns. 'So it's runic enchantment? Professor Babbling mentioned it in our Ancient Runes class once, but she said the practice had died out centuries ago because the runes were unstable and too many people were maimed or killed.'</p><p>Ron, who has just relaxed and begun to tuck into some chicken, looks suddenly alarmed.</p><p>'What?!' he cries out.</p><p>'When you use too many runes at once, the magic in them overwhelms the system and it starts to collapse,' Harry explains quickly. He turns back to Hermione, who looks surprised and mildly impressed with his explanation. 'What?'</p><p>'I just didn't realise you know so much about runes and enchanting,' Hermione says.</p><p>'I didn't, until Snape told me,' Harry explains. 'But seriously, it's so cool Hermione. He found a way around the layering problem in runic enchantments.'</p><p>Hermione's eyebrows shoot up. 'How?'</p><p>'The language he invented,' Harry explains. 'Basically, he told me about how spells don't actually need words to work, they're just easier because the Latin focuses our minds. We assign meaning to the words, and that is what gives them power. So he decided to create his own meaning by inventing a totally new language and deciding what each symbol did. He basically decided that instead of trying to beat the system, he'd simply overwrite the entire thing and win that way.'</p><p>Hermione's brain is visibly whirling with a thousand thoughts a second. 'If you can't beat the game, change the rules,' she says slowly, and her lips quirk in a smile. 'How very Slytherin of him.'</p><p>'Yeah, but don't you get it?' Harry says eagerly, leaning forwards slightly and willing Hermione to understand. 'He can assign <em>whatever he wants</em> to his symbols. If he decides, I dunno, to turn himself into a massive dragon, he can do that now. All he has to do is come up with a symbol and carve it onto himself. ...Or maybe his desk, that might be better...'</p><p>Hermione frowns. 'Yes, but surely there are limitations. Every spell is limited by how much power the caster wields, and no amount of magic is going to let him pluck the moon out of the sky or blow out the sun.'</p><p>'Well, yes, alright, some things are impossible, but loads aren't! He can use the enchantments now that weren't possible before! Like the symbol he designed to nullify toxic fumes - it requires three or four Ancient Runes to detect, analyse, neutralise and Vanish smoke, but he manages the same effect with one symbol! So there's no layering or overlapping, and he can put another symbol next to it for shielding instead.'</p><p>'Why don't you just use a spell?' Ron asks.</p><p>'Runic enchantments last longer,' Harry replies, glancing over at the redhead seated opposite him. 'And even spells can become too layered, although it usually takes more.'</p><p>Hermione stares thoughtfully at Harry. 'Okay, I can see how the symbols would be useful,' she says after several moments of careful deliberation. 'But how does that help you with Defence?'</p><p>Harry resists the urge to wince. After almost two hours of discussing runes, symbols and warding with Snape, he'd finally run out of questions about magical theory and instead asked about the practical applications.</p><p>Snape had snorted derisively. <em>I see you have once again misunderstood me rather spectacularly, Potter. These symbols aren't part of my tutoring you. They are your payment.</em></p><p>'In return for tutoring me, he wants me to carve these symbols into every desk in the Potions classroom,' Harry explains, slightly embarrassed. 'I misunderstood what they were for. They're not for Defence, they're for Potions, so that we can cast spells and brew potions in his classroom without hurting him.'</p><p>'Oh,' Hermione says, eyes wide.</p><p>'That must be why we haven't actually brewed anything yet,' Ron says thoughtfully.</p><p>'I just don't get why he hasn't done it before now,' Harry says. 'He only invented the symbols ten days ago, but he's still had more than a week to carve them and he hasn't done any. If I hadn't needed tutoring he still wouldn't have anybody to do it.'</p><p>'Maybe he can't because of his... condition,' Hermione says tentatively.</p><p>'Then ask someone else,' Harry points out. 'Surely there's somebody in this castle that would be capable of carving symbols into desks for him. If he can trust <em>me</em> to do it, why not any of the Rebuilding volunteers or another professor?'</p><p>'Professor Snape seems like the sort of man who dislikes asking for help from others,' Hermione says matter-of-factly, tucking her hair behind one ear. 'He probably sees it as a matter of personal pride, or perhaps he resents what he would perceive as showing a weakness or owing somebody else a debt...'</p><p>Harry thinks of Dumbledore's deal with Snape and silently agrees.</p><p>'You're kind of like that sometimes,' Ron says bluntly to Harry.</p><p>Harry is totally taken aback. 'What?'</p><p>'You don't usually ask for help,' Ron elaborates, stabbing at some lettuce with his fork. 'With the little things, sure, you can ask Hermione about homework or get me to explain something about wizarding culture you don't understand. But when it comes to the big things... you're kind of... quiet about it, mate. I mean, you've gotten a bit better, but...'</p><p>Harry stares at him, feeling rather startled and a little defensive. He fights back the need to retort with something sharp and cutting, and instead forces himself to think through what Ron has just told him.</p><p>'Like with Umbridge,' Hermione says tentatively. 'Or, um...' she falters, looking extremely apprehensive about voicing her next thought.</p><p>'What?' Harry asks, and his voice is a little tense. He tries to calm himself and remove his emotions from the situation.</p><p>It doesn't work.</p><p>'Well. The Dursleys...' Hermione winces when Harry's face shutters. 'You've implied some things over the years, made some throwaway comments, but... you never actually, um, reported it. Or, well, told Ron and I. Anything. About it. Um.' She stutters to a halt and flushes. 'You don't have to tell us anything if you don't want to!' she says in one big rush, 'But, we're, you know... here for you if you need it. To talk about it. Or. Um. Help. In any way.'</p><p>'Right,' Harry says stiffly. He gets the feeling Hermione has probably rehearsed this in front of a mirror, and it's making him a strange mix of uncomfortable and grateful. Harry doesn't have the faintest clue what to do with the feeling, so he decides to ignore it.</p><p>'Anyway,' Ron says, quickly returning the conversation to the topic at hand before it goes beyond awkward into something tense and confrontational. 'Snape is probably like that,' he says, gesturing vaguely with his fork. 'Seems like the kind of guy who tries to do everything by himself. Independent, you know. And stubborn.'</p><p>Harry briefly wonders whether the conversation has actually moved on or if they're still talking about him.</p><p>'Independence is all well and good, but if you can't rely on others in times of need it's extremely detrimental,' Hermione says crisply. 'Perhaps it's a good thing Harry will be getting tutoring with him. That way you're both getting the help that you need.'</p><p>Ron snorts. 'No offence, but I think Snape needs a lot more than just some carvings on his tables.'</p><p>Hermione rolls her eyes. 'He <em>is</em> better,' she says pointedly. 'And we're doing nobody any favours by holding grudges.'</p><p>Of course Hermione has already forgiven Snape. She'd wanted to befriend the Slytherins in fifth year, after all, when the Hat had warned them all that House division would tear them apart - despite the fact that several of the Slytherins had spent years bullying her for her blood and intellect.</p><p>Now that Harry thinks about it, the Hat was probably right.</p><p>• • • • • •</p><p>Thursday morning's Defence class is another round of Jenkins showing off every flashy spell she can think of, but it's better than the alternatives and they're actually learning something in between the showy spells that are mostly useless, so Harry keeps his mouth shut, head down and quill firmly in hand, and takes as many notes as he can.</p><p>Hermione still death glares every time Jenkins so much as exists, but it's... Harry would say it's a work in progress, but that would be a lie, so instead he just tells himself that it's mostly harmless and pretends he doesn't notice.</p><p>(The little voice in the back of his head gets louder.)</p><p>Charms class after lunch is a breeze, since they're reviewing the Patronus Charm. NEWT examiners apparently consider it very impressive, so anyone that was in the DA suddenly likes Harry a little bit more for teaching it to them.</p><p>Other students in the class are seriously struggling with it though, particularly the Slytherins and seventh years, so Flitwick, Fred and George spend their time walking around the classroom helping students. Harry would offer to help too, except he doesn't think the Slytherins would take it from him, and at least one of the seventh years has already tried to give him a letter, so he stays in his seat and finishes his Transfiguration homework instead.</p><p>Hermione dashes off to double Ancient Runes for the last two periods, whilst Ron and Harry drag themselves to the library and spend an hour memorising the properties of Potions ingredients and then quizzing each other.</p><p>'What colour are fluxweed flowers?' Ron asks Harry.</p><p>'Purple,' he replies immediately. He remembers from the essay he wrote a couple of days ago. 'Alright... what effect does fairy dust have on light refraction when added to water?'</p><p>'The light rays are randomly scattered,' Ron answers, smiling proudly when Harry confirms he got it right. 'Okay, let's see... what happens when you add Acromantula venom to acid?'</p><p>'Er...' Harry's face scrunches up in thought. 'There's a lot of fizzing and heat is given off.'</p><p>'And?' Ron prompts.</p><p>'And... oh, a white vapour is emitted that can be dangerous when directly inhaled!'</p><p>'Bloody hell,' Ron groans, even as he grins. 'We've turned into swots.'</p><p>'Hermione will be proud,' Harry says consolingly, laughing lightly. 'Describe wormwood?'</p><p>'What it looks like?' Ron asks, and Harry nods. 'Er, it's a green plant... hang on. Wait, yeah, um, it's got a silver-green stem, dark green leaves and... and... fibrous roots!'</p><p>'Outstanding, Mr Weasley.'</p><p>'Oi, you shut it. Alright... describe and explain the taste of wormwood.'</p><p>Harry's nose wrinkles. 'It's very bitter,' he says, and then pauses to rack his brain. 'Because of its... quinine content?'</p><p>'Are you sure about that, O Chosen One?'</p><p>Harry chucks his quill at Ron. 'Yes, you tomato-headed git.'</p><p>'Oi, watch it, mophead.'</p><p>Harry snorts. 'Even eleven year old Malfoy managed better than that.'</p><p>'Yeah, well, I've got exactly half a brain cell left, so you may just shut it and pass me that Chocolate Frog.'</p><p>Harry lobs the box at his head and goes back to reading about knotgrass and leech juice.</p><p>Dinner is a blessed escape, but the reappearance of a slightly frazzled Hermione only promises more studying sessions later that evening. She is, however, very impressed with their progress, and gives them both approving smiles.</p><p>Ron grins back, and Harry rolls his eyes and pretends he doesn't see his two best friends gazing at each other for a moment too long before they both blush and look away.</p><p>They don't have any more homework - thank Merlin for small mercies - so once Harry has spent an hour with Hermione cramming the names, properties and growing requirements of various plants into his brain for Herbology, he plays a game of Exploding Snap with Ron in an attempt to recover his last remaining brain cell and then slumps down in front of the Common Room fireplace with Snape's notes and his own higgledy-piggledy scribbles.</p><p>Learning the symbols and their phrases is slightly easier now that he knows what they actually <em>mean</em>, but Harry's poor brain can only take so much and soon he's staring into the flames, two steps away from dozing.</p><p>He can't stop thinking about how <em>alive</em> Snape had looked, when he'd been explaining his discovery to Harry.</p><p>Friday is a blur of wolfsbane in Herbology and non-verbal Summoning and Banishing in Charms, as well as another embarrassing encounter in the corridor before Hermione finally loses her patience and Disillusions all three of them to stop Harry's would-be suitors from following him.</p><p>Whilst Hermione hurries off to Arithmancy - still her favourite class, despite how horribly complicated it looks - and Ron strides down to the Quidditch pitch to help coach some of the younger students hoping to get on their House's team, Harry heaves a relieved sigh and flops down on his bed in the eighth year Gryffindor boys' dorm room.</p><p>Ten minutes into Harry's lazy cat nap, Neville appears clutching what looks vaguely like a potted cactus and humming happily to himself. Harry still remembers getting sprayed with pus by one of Neville's weird plants on the train at the start of fifth year - a Mimbulus Mimbletonia if he remembers correctly - so he keeps a wary eye on his friend as he meanders across the room to deposit his cactus on a window sill beside his bed.</p><p>'Hiya, Harry,' Neville says happily when he realises Harry is awake and watching him.</p><p>'Hi, Nev,' Harry returns, wiping his eyes and sitting up. He stretches, scratching at his ribs and resisting the urge to yawn. NEWT classes are exhausting, and he's only been back two weeks. He doesn't even want to know what it's going to be like in May. Hermione will probably go grey from the stress. 'What's that?'</p><p>'Oh, it's just a Saharan fire-breathing cactus,' Neville replies cheerfully.</p><p>Harry stares at him in appalled horror.</p><p>Neville bursts out laughing. 'Don't worry,' he says in between bouts of sniggering, 'I'm just joking.'</p><p>Harry slumps with relief. 'You absolute git,' he says mildly, chucking a pillow at Neville.</p><p>Neville doesn't even seem to notice the pillow that bounces off his shoulder. 'You should've seen your <em>face</em>,' he says, beaming.</p><p>Harry flips him off and flops back down onto his bed. 'You're evil, Nev,' he says flatly. 'Absolutely evil.'</p><p>'Yeah, but you won't let on when I say the same thing to Ron later, will you?' Neville asks mischievously.</p><p>Harry stares at him. He can't stop his face from breaking out into a grin. 'You are a monster,' he says, delighted. 'Who are you, and what have you done with Neville Longbottom?'</p><p>Neville shrugs, all easy confidence and self-assurance. 'Maybe I've just always been a snake in the grass,' he says casually, eyes sparkling with humour.</p><p>'Nah,' Harry denies, waving one hand in lazy dismissal. 'You're too nice.'</p><p>Neville smiles at the compliment - because of course he does, how is this boy not a Hufflepuff - and drops down onto his own bed. 'How's your love life coming along?'</p><p>Harry groans. 'It's horrible and I hate them all.'</p><p>'There, there,' Neville says in faux comfort. 'I'm sure you'll find the other half of your soul in amongst the bloodthirsty savages out for your blood. And Gringotts vault.'</p><p>'Thanks,' Harry says flatly. 'I'm sure they'll be clinging onto your purse strings too, and the ribbons on your Order of Merlin.'</p><p>Neville yawns. 'I'll just set my gran on them,' he says blithely, and Harry can't stop himself from laughing.</p><p>'You could always chase them off with the sword of Gryffindor,' Harry suggests hopefully.</p><p>'I could say the same to you,' Neville retorts. 'You certainly kept quiet about slaying a <em>Basilisk</em> when you were <em>twelve</em>!'</p><p>Harry sighs. 'The Daily Prophet is the bane of my existence.'</p><p>'Well, if you didn't want them writing exposé articles about you after the war, you should've sued them into the ground or bought enough of the company to shut them up,' Neville says, and it's so different from his usual quiet, meek speech pattern that Harry nearly does a double take. He lifts his head up just to goggle at his roommate.</p><p>'Are we sure you're not Polyjuiced?' Harry asks disbelievingly.</p><p>Neville shrugs, and he looks somewhere between abashed, unapologetic and pleased. 'Well, we all grew up, didn't we?'</p><p>Yeah, Harry supposes they did.</p><p>'Still,' he says, flopping back down onto his remaining pillow.</p><p>They're quiet for a couple of moments, just basking in the freedom and peace only Friday afternoons can bring. Then Neville shifts and fidgets enough that Harry squints at him suspiciously, and suddenly all the years of nervousness, anxiety and awkward discomfort have rushed back into Neville. It's like he's transformed, or reverted; suddenly all the bright, bold confidence is gone and he's back to being the same kid that constantly lost his toad, blew up cauldrons and cried when he got a Troll in Potions and his gran sent him a Howler.</p><p>'What is it?' Harry asks, curious and wary. He trusts Neville, but the other boy - nearly a <em>man</em> now, sweet Merlin - is clearly fighting internally with himself about <em>something</em>, and Harry can usually rely on Neville to speak his mind, even if he stutters and stammers whilst doing it. Awkward and shy he may be, but Neville has always been honest.</p><p>'Um,' Neville says, and turns red.</p><p>For one terrible second, Harry wonders if Neville's about to give him a declaration of intent, and he almost has a heart attack.</p><p>'I was wondering... if... um... ifyouwouldbemadifIaskedoutGinny.'</p><p>'What.'</p><p>Neville takes a deep breath and closes his eyes for a second before opening them again and staring at Harry with fear and determination in equal measures. 'I want to ask out Ginny,' he says with shaky firmness.</p><p>Harry blinks. 'Okay...?' he says slowly.</p><p>Some of Neville's confidence returns when Harry doesn't really react to his announcement. 'I just wanted to make sure that you wouldn't be upset if I asked her out,' he explains calmly, looking away before glancing back at Harry. 'I wasn't sure if you were over her, or if you still...?'</p><p>'Oh. No,' Harry says firmly. 'I'm not still secretly pining for her or anything. That's just a rumour.'</p><p>'Oh, okay,' Neville says, and his entire body slumps with relief, tension draining out of him now that he knows Harry isn't angry with him, or whatever else he was worried about.</p><p>'It's just, you're my friend,' Neville says after a moment, making eye contact with Harry again. Harry sits up slowly, feeling like this might be a serious enough conversation to warrant him being somewhat vertical. 'And I know you broke up with her during the war to keep her safe.'</p><p>'Don't worry, Nev,' Harry says reassuringly, oddly touched that Neville is trying so hard to be considerate. 'Yeah, I had a crush on her, but I don't anymore, and she knows that. We talked about it after the war was over, and we both agreed that we'd moved on. Honestly...' Harry trails off awkwardly. 'I think she was still a bit angry that I broke up with her to protect her during the war. She said she didn't want me making decisions on her behalf, but I couldn't willingly put her in more danger, so...' Harry's words fade away and he winces. 'Don't tell her I said that.' </p><p>Neville snorts. 'I'll take your secret to my grave.'</p><p>'Yeah, well, you know. I'm not in love with her or anything like that. She's... more like a close friend or family, I guess. So if you like her, go for it.'</p><p>Neville turns slightly pink. 'I... well, I was going to ask her out, but then I wondered whether I should wait and then court her properly?' He looks at Harry with hopeful desperation. 'Do you think she'd like that? All the courting and the festival? Or would she rather I just asked her?'</p><p>Neville is asking <em>Harry</em> for dating advice? Merlin. He must be <em>really</em> desperate if he's asking the most clueless guy in their year.</p><p>Then again, he can't exactly ask Ron, and... well, there aren't any other eighth year Gryffindor boys now. The rest of them are... gone.</p><p>Harry shoves that supremely maudlin and unhelpful thought aside and focuses on Neville's dilemma. 'Er, I think I overheard her talking about it with Hermione once,' he offers doubtfully. 'You should ask her what Ginny thinks, she'll definitely know.'</p><p>'Yeah, that's a good idea,' Neville says, perking up.</p><p>'They're close friends, if anyone knows it'll be her,' Harry says, running a hand through his hair. 'I think sometimes girls can read minds or something.'</p><p>Neville doesn't even laugh; he just nods solemnly and says, 'Luna asked me yesterday if I'd recently grown any roses or hatched any Ashwinder eggs.'</p><p>Harry stares at him; as usual, Luna's particular brand of bizarre has gone completely over his head. 'What?'</p><p>'They're some of the main ingredients in love potions,' Neville explains. 'I think she was trying to ask me if I was in l-love.' He blushes.</p><p>'Oh. What did you say?'</p><p>'That I hadn't gotten round to the moonstone or pearl dust just yet, but that I might try picking some peppermint soon.'</p><p>Harry snorts. 'Good answer.'</p><p>Neville grins at him. 'Well, what about you?' he asks eagerly, leaning forwards. 'Anyone caught your interest? Has a suitor managed to win your affections?'</p><p>Harry groans. 'No.'</p><p>'Well, there's still time,' Neville says cheerfully, not at all put off by Harry's unimpressed glare. 'The festival officially starts in just over a week, after all.'</p><p>Harry runs a hand over his face despairingly. 'I think I'll just move to Kuwait,' he says mournfully. 'Or, I dunno, Antarctica.'</p><p>'They'd probably just follow you there,' Neville says lightly, and Harry groans again to demonstrate the depths of his suffering.</p><p>'You're like a flower in full bloom, attracting all the birds and the bees,' Neville says teasingly, and Harry makes good use of their recent Charms class to Summon his pillow back to him, just so he can chuck it at Neville again.</p><p>Flitwick would be proud, he's sure.</p><p>• • • • • •</p><p>Saturday is mostly spent studying, much to Ron's consternation, although he does take two hours to go back down to the pitch with the twins and coach some students again. Harry joins him for the first hour, but retreats when they start attracting a crowd that want to do nothing more than ogle their Saviour.</p><p>It's frustrating and ridiculous, but Harry's sort of used to this crap by now, so he just sighs and retreats back to the relative safety of the Gryffindor Common Room and buries himself in Snape's language notes again.</p><p>Once he's pretty sure he's memorised the symbols, he gets Hermione to test him and consequently discovers that Neville had taken his advice and privately begged Hermione to help him woo Ginny Weasley. It's all rather amusing, and even more so that evening when Neville thanks him profusely for his help, despite the fact that Harry basically just made it Hermione's problem and called it a day.</p><p>The Great Plan, according to Neville, is to court Ginny by following the formal steps of the Festival, since Hermione reckons Ginny likes Neville enough to not mind however he asks her out, as long as he does it, and Neville has decided he's going to do the whole thing "properly" to show how much he values her, or something. Most of the particulars are lost on Harry after listening to ten minutes of Neville's nervous rambling, but he claps his friend on the back and wishes him luck, and laughs when he blushes every time Ginny walks past.</p><p>Sunday is a mix of relaxation and revising - Harry regrets letting Hermione make him a study timetable already - but most of Harry's focus is on perfecting his memorisation of the twenty five symbols. By the time Monday rolls around, Harry is fairly confident in his ability to accurately recall the meaning of each symbol, and he can remember how to draw most of them, although the last couple are a bit touch and go. He even gets Hermione to quiz him over breakfast, sending Ron into a fit of despair, and as they walk to Potions class his mind is still whirling with lines and symbols and phrases.</p><p>'I don't get why you're so worried about it,' Ron says as they wait outside Snape's classroom. 'It's not like you can't just have the notes in front of you as you carve them.'</p><p>'I just - I want it to be perfect,' Harry says, unable to explain it even to himself.</p><p>'Well, I think it's a good thing,' Hermione says firmly, giving him a small, encouraging smile. 'Hard work always pays off.'</p><p>'Except when you're trying to build a broom out of broken bristles,' Ron says, but acquiesces quickly when Hermione gives him a <em>look</em>.</p><p>Harry is jittery with excitement as he takes his seat in Potions. He knows logically that he won't have his first tutoring session until later that evening, but the sight of Snape stalking to the front of the classroom has set off some sort of chain reaction in his nervous system and now he feels like he's got electricity dancing up his spine and through his stomach.</p><p>When Snape passes back their homework and Harry unrolls his two essays on wolfsbane and investigative techniques to discover he's gotten an EE and an O respectively, he can't stop himself from beaming.</p><p>Suddenly Hermione's nightmare-inducing study timetable seems so much more worth it.</p><p>Harry pays close attention to the lecture on poisons derived from common ingredients and how to identify them. It's actually rather disturbing to realise how easy it is to poison someone, and Harry begins to wonder whether he should be checking his food more frequently.</p><p>Once Snape has finished convincing them all that they're going to discover Basilisk venom in their pumpkin juice, he dismisses the class with a strict order to continue revising the properties of Potions ingredients, and Harry shuffles to the front of the room whilst everyone else clears out.</p><p>'Potter,' Snape drawls, raising an eyebrow questioningly. It mildly amuses Harry that he doesn't even bother to ask, and instead just lets his facial muscles and brows do it for him.</p><p>'Er, Professor...' Harry begins uncertainly, averting his eyes and fiddling with the strap of his bag. 'I was wondering when you wanted me to start carving the symbols into the desks?'</p><p>Snape stares at him for a moment. Harry has no idea why. What on Earth has he done <em>now</em>? But whatever it is, Snape apparently gets over it fairly quickly and instead leans back in his chair, watching Harry closely but without any hostility, which is frankly a miracle.</p><p>'You will come here at six o'clock tonight for two hours, and the time will be evenly split. The first hour will be spent enchanting the desks, and in the second hour I will teach you Defence Against the Dark Arts.'</p><p>It's not a question, but Harry has no reason to disagree with the arrangement so he doesn't argue. Instead he finally lifts his gaze to Snape - he's a Gryffindor, for Merlin's sake - and blurts out the real reason he'd stayed behind.</p><p>'Yes, sir. It's just, um, I have a double free period now, and I was wondering...' Harry barely stops himself from shifting nervously like a first year. 'If you'd like me to start now?'</p><p>Snape's staring at him again. Harry nearly groans. Whatever it is he's doing, he honestly doesn't have a clue. Hopefully he doesn't manage to accidentally offend Snape and cause the moody man to cancel the tutoring.</p><p>'I have marking to complete, Potter, I cannot tutor you now,' Snape says flatly.</p><p>'No, I know that, I meant the enchanting,' Harry says quickly. 'I just thought... well, I've never enchanted before, so I'll need to practice it first to make sure I don't mess it up, and...' <em>I find this strangely fascinating</em>. 'I'm free now?'</p><p>'Don't you have studying to do, Potter?'</p><p>'I've been studying loads,' Harry says, and he can already tell that Snape doesn't believe him. 'You don't have a class now, do you?' he adds questioningly.</p><p>'No,' Snape admits. 'But I will require silence for my grading, Potter. I do not have time for idle chatter.'</p><p><em>No more two hour discussions about magical theory and runic enchantment, </em>Harry translates. Disappointing but not unexpected. It's not like he expected Snape to suddenly consider them <em>friends</em>, after all, or even acquaintances.</p><p>'That's fine,' Harry replies evenly. He's pretty sure he's already won, so instead of dragging this uncertain conversation out any longer, he drops his bag beside the nearest table and asks, 'Do you have a chisel and hammer I can use?'</p><p>Snape watches him for a moment before producing a small bundle of cloth from a drawer in his desk. He unwraps the cloth to reveal a set of chiselling tools, all perfectly clean and sharp.</p><p>'I will spend fifteen minutes showing you what to do,' Snape says long-sufferingly. 'After that, Mr Potter, I have essays to grade and you are on your own.'</p><p>Harry nods, and then they get to work.</p><p>Snape uses a block of wood to demonstrate how to correctly carve the symbols with the chisel and hammer. It becomes immediately obvious why Snape designed all of his symbols to be composed entirely of straight lines - curves look like they'd be impossible to accurately and neatly pull off every time - but within minutes Harry is much more concerned by how obvious it becomes why Snape needs Harry to do this for him in the first place.</p><p>The first two symbols Snape carves are perfect; the lines are all straight, parallel and even mostly the same length and depth. Harry knows he'll be hard pressed to reproduce that level of craftsmanship without a few practice runs first. Yet by the time Snape reaches his fourth symbol in the sequence he's carving, his hands have begun to minutely shake and his lines are becoming more uneven, rough and jagged. The sixth and last symbol Snape carves is a lot more messy and whilst it is still clearly identifiable, it looks more like the sort of workmanship that Harry would produce.</p><p>It must be the effects of the Cruciatus Curse, Harry thinks with numb horror as he watches Snape's long, pale fingers clench around the handle of his tools. The Potions Master is visibly frustrated, and Harry abruptly wishes there was something he could do to help. Watching the man's hands tremble and his face tighten with pain and anger is discomforting and oddly upsetting.</p><p>Harry hates watching other people in pain. If he could, he'd strip every last problem and condition and injury from Snape and plaster them all over himself instead. He just can't stand it, being forced to sit and do nothing as someone else gets hurt.</p><p>It's like Cedric and Sirius and Dobby and Dumbledore and Hermione all over again.</p><p>But there <em>is</em> something he can do to help, Harry realises. He can figure out how to chisel these symbols correctly, and then carve them into all of Snape's desks, and then the professor will finally be able to teach his class fully and properly without worrying about having another seizure in front of a room full of students.</p><p>Snape's hands are shaking badly as he carves a straight line between each of the notches, connecting all the symbols up until they form one linear chain. It's a little sloppy, but overall Harry still thinks it looks more than passable - but what would he know? Snape almost definitely doesn't want to hear his awkward compliments or comments, so Harry keeps them all strictly to himself and simply watches with attentive focus.</p><p>Snape pulls his wand from his sleeve and rests the very tip of it in the very first notch at the beginning of the sequence. His dark eyes are locked onto the chain of symbols, and for a moment he is still and silent as he stares.</p><p>Without a single word passing his lips, the end of his wand suddenly begins to glow. Harry watches, eyes wide and fascinated, as metallic grey magic begins spilling from Snape's wand like molten metal. As the magic spills out, Snape slowly drags his wand from left to right across the chain of symbols, letting the river of magic spill down and settle into the grooves in the wood. Harry leans closer, captivated, and catches sight of silver speckles and streaks in the dark grey. The longer the spell continues, brighter and more silver-white streaks begin to appear in the magic, which almost seems to sparkle.</p><p>It's amazing.</p><p>When Snape reaches the end of the chain, he lets the tip of his wand rest in the final notch for a moment before he sharply twists his wand and jerks it upwards out of the pooled magic. A small ripple spreads outwards across the surface of the liquid magic, but it quickly settles again and is soon sparkling and glittering in the light, metallic grey shot through with silver and steel.</p><p>Snape swishes his wand downwards, bringing it close but not letting it touch the magic gathered in the dips of the symbols. Again, whatever spell he uses is totally nonverbal, but the magic begins sinking into the wood, leaving only a faint shimmer behind, coated along the inside of the symbols like a translucent, silvery film.</p><p>'How did you do that?' Harry breathes out once he's sure Snape is finished. He glances up to find the man already watching him, and quickly shuts his gaping mouth.</p><p>'Intent, focus and will,' Snape lists off tonelessly, lifting three empty flasks from the side of his desk and placing them on top of the block of wood.</p><p>'Now watch,' Snape instructs him briskly, and then knocks his hand against the flasks.</p><p>Harry expects the glass flasks to be sent flying to fall and possibly shatter across the desk, but instead the flasks wobble wildly for a second, teetering impossibly on the edge of the wood, before suddenly tilting back down and resettling on the edge of the block, as if an invisible hand had reached out and settled them back down before they could fall.</p><p>'The <em>maintain object balance</em> symbol!' Harry blurts in realisation, leaning forwards to inspect the chain of symbols Snape had carved. Sure enough, the third symbol is three parallel vertical lines with one central horizontal line through all three.</p><p>'Yes,' Snape confirms. 'It prevents objects from being knocked off the uppermost surface. I anticipate many less shattered vials and flasks in the future from stray elbows and hands.'</p><p>'That's brilliant,' Harry blurts, and then immediately wishes he'd kept his mouth shut. His cheeks flush slightly, and he sort of momentarily hates himself.</p><p>The casual, matter-of-fact tone with which Harry had delivered his awed opinion is probably the only thing that prevents Snape from assuming he's being sarcastic and giving him a detention. Instead, the dour Potions Master freezes and then stares at Harry - again - for several seconds of stunned silence.</p><p>'I'm so glad to have your approval, Mr Potter,' Snape says at last, his tone distant and haughty. Harry's pretty sure he's putting on a mask of indifference, but he doesn't know him well enough to be certain of his suspicion. 'Now that I have demonstrated the correct technique, you may bruise and bloody your fingers to your heart's content. <em>I</em> have grading to complete.'</p><p>And with that Harry is dismissed to one of the student desks whilst Snape pulls a stack of scrolls towards himself and begins viciously attacking the first one he unrolls with copious amounts of red ink.</p><p>But even that, Harry realises after a few seconds of observation, is not how should be. Snape's hand is slower and more careful than Harry remembers him being in the past, and he frequently pauses to rest his hand or even massage the muscles, as if he's in pain just from gripping a quill and writing. As Harry begins attempting to chisel symbols into the block of wood without bludgeoning himself with a stray hammer, he occasionally glances up to check on Snape. Each time he does, the man's hand is slower and seems to pain him more.</p><p>By the time Harry has somewhat successfully carved all twenty five symbols into the block of wood, Snape has given up on marking altogether. He doesn't look like he's capable of writing anymore, and his right hand is visibly shaking, noticeable even from where Harry is sitting several feet away.</p><p>Why doesn't Snape just use a Self-Writing Quill?</p><p>Harry is just about to open his mouth and offer the use of his own Dicta-Quill when he realises the answer: <em>because the Charms on it would probably cause him even more pain.</em></p><p>If Snape can't stand someone casting <em>Tergeo</em> on his sleeves, what are the chances he can use a spelled quill without having another seizure on the floor? <em>Not good</em>, Harry thinks grimly. If Neville and Hermione are right, foreign magic is what triggers Snape's condition and makes it worse, and that must include any number of Charmed items with someone else's magic on them.</p><p>'If you are done goggling at me like a circus freak show, Potter, you can link your symbols now,' Snape bites out, tone snappy and cold. Harry startles, lifting his wide gaze from Snape's hands to his eyes, which are dark and murderous.</p><p>For a moment Harry is horrified with himself for his own appalling lack of tact, and thinks that the Potions Master is angry with him and perhaps even offended - but then when Snape swiftly rises to his feet and pulls his long, wide sleeves down to cover his hands, Harry realises that beneath the anger and indignation lies a thick layer of... shame. Embarrassment, as well, so strong Harry might almost call it humiliation.</p><p>Harry feels guilt solidify and sit heavy in his gut. He'd been horribly embarrassed by the display he'd inadvertently put on in the Entrance Hall for his small, snickering audience the day a parliament of enraged owls and a bloody Love Howler had attacked him without warning. He'd wanted to yell at everyone watching - had pointedly rejected both Jenkins and Priscilla Vexsworth simply because they hadn't helped him and had let him flounder instead - so how mortifying must it be for a man as proud and controversial as Snape to have hundreds of students and staff watching him as he struggles to do something as simple as <em>write</em>?</p><p><em>Having a seizure in front of us must have been absolutely humiliating for him</em>, Harry thinks suddenly. <em>He must have absolutely hated it when he realised what happened</em>.</p><p>Pity fills Harry, as well as a sort of muddled empathy - but pity does no good. It doesn't change anything, beyond perhaps making the person suffering even more miserable and ashamed. Pity isn't what Snape wants or needs, and if he knew Harry felt so much as a scrap of it for him, the man would probably try to set him on fire with his eyes.</p><p>No, what Snape needs is understanding, tact and a complete lack of judgement.</p><p>Of <em>course</em> Snape never asked McGonagall to find someone willing to help him carve symbols into his desks; that would've meant admitting that he's not what he used to be, and the man is clearly still trying to pretend that he is. Snape is in denial, and Harry can't even blame him for it. He's been there himself.</p><p>'Sorry, sir,' Harry says quickly, and uses his chisel to link a row of nine symbols together. He keeps his eyes fixed on his work the entire time.</p><p>'Why did you stop?' Snape demands when Harry looks up at him expectantly after he's finished his linking.</p><p>'I don't know the spell to pour the magic on,' Harry says slowly. He'd thought the reason for his halt was obvious.</p><p>'You're not finished linking,' Snape says snippily, gesturing to the other symbols that Harry has carved into the block in rows beneath his linked chain.</p><p>'But... they're in the row below,' Harry says slowly, frowning.</p><p>'The chain doesn't have to be <em>straight</em>, you idiot boy,' Snape hisses irritably. 'As long as the notches are linked it doesn't matter <em>how</em> they're linked. This isn't English; the symbols can be read in any order, since they have no effect on each other. Their meanings are all self-contained.'</p><p>Harry blinks. 'So... I can link them in a big S shape?' he asks hesitantly. 'I can link a symbol to the one below?'</p><p>'<em>Obviously</em>,' is the snappy retort he gets. Harry's so glad he asked.</p><p>Once Harry has linked all of his symbols up in one big long chain, Snape comes around to the front of his desk and scrutinises his work for a few moments. His face is harsh and flat, but at least his lip isn't curling, and no blatant insults are thrown, so Harry counts it as a win.</p><p>'This will suffice,' Snape says at last, looking unimpressed but resigned to mediocrity where Harry is concerned.</p><p>'What's the spell for the next bit?' Harry asks eagerly despite himself.</p><p>'There is no spell,' Snape replies flatly. 'I distinctly remember already telling you that this technique requires intent, focus and will. That is all.'</p><p>'You mean, you just... stare at it!?'</p><p>Snape sighs disgustedly. 'No, Potter, you ignorant imbecile.' Ah, there's the Snape Harry knows and loathingly loves. 'You are not transforming the magic in any way, merely drawing it from yourself, from your core. You are pulling pure magic; no spells are required. You must merely <em>concentrate</em>, focus on what you wish to achieve and will it into existence.'</p><p>At Harry's dubious look, Snape inhales deeply and glares at him. 'We have already discussed this in exquisite detail, Potter. Words are irrelevant to magic, beyond their use as a tool to simplify and hasten the process. They are nothing more than stabilisers. <em>You do not need words; </em>you only need magic. You have cast accidental magic before, yes? I highly doubt there were any words spoken during your no doubt numerous childhood mishaps, so why the blazes do you expect to need them now?'</p><p>At Snape's sharp demand, Harry finally accepts what he's saying - and loses his patience. Closing his eyes - because clearly Snape has nothing else useful to add - Harry focuses on how the magic had looked spilling from Snape's wand, silver-grey and beautiful. He remembers the slow drag of Snape's wand across the symbols, the way light had caught on the river of raw magic, the delicate grip with which Snape had held his wand. He imagines a similar effect with his own magic; pictures something pure and white and glimmering spilling from his wand like a liquid Patronus.</p><p>Harry wants that. He wants to draw on his magic and pull it forwards and out into the world, where it can be put to good use. Wants to fill his carved symbols with magic, so that he can learn how to enchant properly, and help Snape keep himself safe from other students' spells. Wants to make a difference in a small, subtle, unnoticed way; to be there for someone who is too proud and ashamed and humiliated to ask for help.</p><p>Harry wants it, so he reaches down into his magic and <em>wills</em> it to be so.</p><p>Snape makes a tiny noise, like a small, hitching inhale, and Harry opens his eyes. The Potions Master has taken several steps backwards away from Harry, but his eyes are locked onto Harry's wand.</p><p>Harry looks down and stares at the pulsing white magic pouring from the end of his wand like thick, sparkling fog. Already the symbols have been completely covered in magic, and now the excess is spilling across the wooden block and down the sides like a waterfall of cloud. The effect reminds Harry of dry ice, and he simply gazes at his magic for a moment, admiring the sheer, simple beauty of it.</p><p>He's clearly overpowered the spell, however, so Harry twists his wand and lifts it swiftly upwards, cutting off the flow of magic and leaving a somewhat cohesive mass of shifting, drifting magic gathered on and around the wooden block. Snape's magic had been noticeably calmer, whereas Harry's rises and falls, constantly changing shape in small, subtle ways and never staying totally still. It looks <em>alive</em>, and Harry supposes that in some strange way it is.</p><p>It's <em>magic</em>, after all.</p><p>'Your control, Potter, is abominable,' Snape says dryly, but the words come out a lot less harshly than the man probably intended. Instead he sounds almost <em>admiring</em>, and the thought makes Harry sit up straighter on his stool.</p><p>'Sorry, sir,' he says, not sorry at all.</p><p>Snape can probably tell, because he glares at Harry for a moment before gesturing at the magic still laying in a morphing mass on the table. 'Now finish it,' he instructs impatiently.</p><p>Harry opens his mouth to ask how, exactly, one orders a writhing mass of their own magic to sink into runic symbols and activate them, but before can even form the words Snape cocks a condescending eyebrow at him.</p><p>Right. Well then. Intent, focus and will it is.</p><p><em>I shall believe it, and it shall be so</em>.</p><p>Snape's words echo back at Harry, driving him to close his eyes and concentrate as single-mindedly as he can on what he wants to achieve.</p><p><em>You do not need words; you only need magic</em>.</p><p>For a moment Harry simply imagines the wood absorbing the magic, but that doesn't feel right. That's not what he's trying to achieve - rather, he wants the symbols Snape designed to absorb his magic and activate, fulfilling their intended purpose.</p><p>Harry thinks of the twenty five symbols he has painstakingly carved into the wood. The meanings behind each flash through his mind - <em>nullify toxic fumes, maintain object balance, contain and delay explosions, constant room temperature, contain and remove spills</em> - and he imagines them all coming into effect: the wood becoming impervious to acid and other corrosive substances; the air around the block remaining constantly at room temperature, perfect for brewing; any explosions being slowed and reduced to allow students to step back in time, safe from harm.</p><p>It all coalesces in Harry's mind into one bright image, bursting with all of the things he wants to achieve. He feels magic rising up within him, responding to his desire, his call, and he follows the instinctive lead of a wordless spell and brings his wand down, tapping at thin air. He opens his eyes just in time to watch his magic obey his command, sinking down into the symbols he'd carved and leaving them coated in a shimmery, misty white layer, like fog pulled thin and spread across it.</p><p>Harry's heart is beating fast in his chest. He grins, triumphant, down at his faintly glowing symbols, the magic of which soon settles and stills. For a moment Harry is absorbed in his success, but then he turns his head and smiles openly at Snape, forgetting for a second the years of animosity and antagonism between them. All he can think or care about is the brilliant magic Snape has invented, and which Harry has just cast, and the utter joy of it is like a Patronus in his chest. He's just so... <em>happy</em>.</p><p>Snape stares at him. Harry's smile falters slightly, wondering if he's irritated the man with his obvious excitement. What, is the git allergic to positive emotions or something?</p><p>But before Harry can become too irritated and lose his little bubble of happiness, Snape reaches across his desk and silently hands Harry an empty flask. For a moment Harry is non-plussed, until he remembers the test Snape had carried out on his own enchantment.</p><p>Harry places the flask on top of the wooden block and then brushes his arm past it, knocking the glassware sideways. It falls to the side before abruptly halting in mid-air, as if caught on an invisible wire fence wrapped around the edge of the wood.</p><p>The flask slowly rights itself, and Harry feels a swell of satisfaction and pride.</p><p>'Well done, Mr Potter,' Snape says quietly, and Harry can't stop the way his heart beats harder and his lips curl up.</p><p>Harry's still smiling when he leaves for lunch ten minutes later, enchanted block of wood tucked safely into his bag.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you so much to all of the wonderful people who have commented ^-^</p><p>If you’re enjoying this, you might also like my other fic Cursed Blood, which is about Harry becoming a Maledictus.</p><p>Yes, this is shameless self promo. Shhh x)</p><p>
  <b>Edit: Regandbertie1 pointed out that the “moonstone and pearl dust” comment Neville makes might not make sense - whoops! My bad! I forgot to add that moonstone, pearl dust and peppermint are all ingredients in a love potion.</b>
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        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Sparkles in a Vial</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A/N: I may have realised after finishing this chapter that we've hit 65k and we haven't even started the Festival yet. So. Whoops. Heh. My bad.</p><p>Guess it's time to break out that Slow Burn tag :3</p><p>I shall make an effort to speed things up a bit. We finally get to the Festival next chapter!! Praise be.</p><p>Apologies if the subplots and world-building are driving any of you spammy. They're just... so much fun...</p><p>:D</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry floats through Transfiguration class, much to Hermione's amusement. He is still elated about his success enchanting the wooden block - 'On my first try, 'Mione!' - and Snape's genuine praise - 'He actually said well done!' - and can't even be bothered to hide his good mood.</p><p>Professor McGonagall smiles at him when he leaves, and he gets the distinct impression that she's silently laughing at him. Even that doesn't put a damper on Harry's positivity, and he's practically skipping down the corridor to the library, even though he and Ron have to use Notice-Me-Nots just to pass uninterrupted through the busy hallways.</p><p>'Mate, you're worse than Ginny after the first time she properly talked to you,' Ron says flatly after they've found an empty table in the library and claimed it as their own little revision kingdom. Ron's only half sarcastic, but his lips are twitching, so Harry figures it can't be that bad.</p><p>'You don't understand,' Harry says, pulling the wooden block from his bag and placing it on the table between them. 'Look! I carved all the symbols, and this white layer is my raw magic!'</p><p>Ron peers at it for a moment. 'Cool,' he says calmly, in complete opposition to Harry's buzzing energy. 'So this white stuff's your magic? What happens if I touch it?'</p><p>'I dunno,' Harry says, frowning thoughtfully.</p><p>Ron pokes a symbol. Nothing happens.</p><p>'It must be soaked in or something,' Harry says in the knowledgeable tone of voice he uses when he doesn't have a clue what he's talking about.</p><p>Ron "<em>Mmhmm</em>"s and runs his finger across the grooves of the carving. 'Well, it's not blown my arm off,' he says cheerfully. 'So it's probably stable, at least. Or whatever you were talking about at breakfast the other day.'</p><p>'Total system collapse,' Harry says absently. 'It only happens when too many runes are layered on top of each other, and the magic of each rune begins reacting with the other magic packed in around it. Snape said active magic isn't still; it's always moving, shifting, changing. So when it rubs up against other magic, sometimes reactions happen, like clouds in a thunderstorm. The build up of too much friction causes thunder and lightning with water vapour; with runes it creates a magical bomb.'</p><p>Ron nods along to Harry's lecturing with the long practice of someone close to Hermione Granger. Harry almost feels bad, except he's heard so many passionate speeches about the Chudley Cannons and Quidditch Leagues over the years that he figures he owes Ron a little payback.</p><p>'But there are over twenty symbols on this,' Ron says, surprising Harry by proving that he's actually listening and paying attention to what Harry's saying. 'Isn't that too many symbols?'</p><p>'It probably would be, normally,' Harry says, even more eager now that he knows Ron is willing to play one man audience for him. 'But look. See all these little lines between the notches? Snape came up with this as a way to join all the symbols together in one big chain. Instead of twenty five individual spells, this is now one big spell, all made up of the same magic.'</p><p>'But it's still twenty five different symbols,' Ron says, frowning.</p><p>'It's like... like an amalgamation. Or, no - like a patchwork quilt. You make loads of little squares of fabric, each with a different pattern on them, right? And they're just fine on their own. But then you stitch them all together and suddenly they're one big blanket. Yeah, there are still all the individual squares there, but now they're part of something bigger. The links are the thread of the blanket.' Inspiration strikes Harry. 'Or think of it like a Quidditch team! There are individual players - Seeker, Keeper, Beater, Chaser - and they all do different things. But when you put them together, suddenly they're a team. They all work as one. Get it?'</p><p>Ron mulls Harry's words over. 'Kind of,' he says eventually, cocking his head slightly. 'It's like ingredients in a cake, isn't it? Or cogs in a clock?'</p><p>'Basically,' Harry says, as if he's suddenly the ultimate authority on the topic. 'The runes aren't all working independently anymore. Now the symbols all work together and share the magic between them, passing it along the links, so there aren't any collisions or explosions. It just... works.'</p><p>Ron nods thoughtfully and hands the enchanted block of wood back to Harry.</p><p>'So about Bubotuber pus,' Ron says, and then they're sucked into studying Potions and Herbology.</p><p>• • • • • •</p><p>Harry eats his dinner with so much enthusiasm he puts Ron to shame. Hermione keeps giving him bemused smiles, and Neville looks concerned and asks if he missed lunch. Even the twins appear, dropping themselves down on either side of Hermione, who raises an eyebrow, and watch Harry with amusement.</p><p>'Did someone starve him recently?' Fred asks mildly. The wording makes Harry wince slightly, but he hasn't been starved by the Dursleys in a couple of years, so his reaction is barely noticeable and he brushes the uncomfortable feeling aside quickly. He is more than what they did to him, and they don’t get to ruin his life anymore.</p><p>'Try not to choke, there, Harry, it's not good for your public image,' George advises him. Harry rolls his eyes.</p><p>'That'd be a good headline,' Fred agrees. 'Chosen One Chokes On Chicken: Was There Fowl Play? No, wait - Saviour Fouled by Fowl: Are We Sure He's All That Special After All?'</p><p>'Maybe he's a different kind of special,' George says dryly.</p><p>'Don't worry Harry, you'll always be special to me,' Fred assures him solemnly. He bats his eyelashes a moment later, and if Harry wasn't worried about Snape appearing out of nowhere and dismembering him, he'd lob the nearest baguette at Fred's head.</p><p>'Is there a reason you're eating like it's your last meal for six months?' George asks curiously. 'Is something happening that we don't know about?'</p><p>'Harry's got tutoring with Snape,' Ron says flatly.</p><p>'Ron!' Harry says indignantly.</p><p>'...In Remedial Potions,' Ron tacks on.</p><p>'And he thinks filling his stomach will help him how?' Fred asks interestedly.</p><p>'It's at six o'clock,' Harry says shortly, trying to come up with a way to end this conversation or switch the topic.</p><p>'And...?' George asks. 'It's barely half five. Unless you're taking Remedial Potions in Norway, I think you've got enough time to eat without giving yourself indigestion.'</p><p>'Indigestion is the least of his worries if he's going to be locked in a classroom with Snape for the next couple of hours,' Fred says pityingly.</p><p>'He's looking forward to it,' Ron says dryly, because he's a back-stabbing traitor.</p><p>Neville chokes. Hermione smiles. Fred snorts and George's eyebrows skyrocket.</p><p>'Well that's new,' George says blandly after a moment of silence.</p><p>'Ron, I hate you,' Harry says seriously.</p><p>Ron isn't bothered in the slightest. 'You weren't exactly hiding it, mate.'</p><p>Fred laughs. 'Yeah, no. You score a Troll for subtlety, mate.'</p><p>'Well, I guess old Batty's not too bad anymore,' George says, taking nearly everyone aback with his unexpected casual defence of Snape. Only Fred doesn't look surprised at his words.</p><p>'Yeah, he's decent enough, now,' Fred agrees, stunning them all even further.</p><p>'What...?' Ron splutters.</p><p>'Well, even Percy pulled his head out of his arse eventually,' Fred says wisely.</p><p>'Plus, Snape made amends, so I have no grudges to hold for the years of verbal abuse,' George says cheerfully. 'Probably makes up for all the pranks we pulled in his class.'</p><p>'What are you talking about?' Ron demands.</p><p>'Well, there was this one time we put a miniaturised firework under his desk-'</p><p>'No, I meant when you said Snape "made amends",' Ron interrupts impatiently. Harry suspects that George knew what he was asking all along and was purposely obtuse, because... well, because he's George Weasley.</p><p>George reaches up and taps his left ear. He's still wearing some sort of glamour or illusion spell, like he does during Charms class to make himself look identical to Fred and confuse the students, but Harry is at a loss as to how this is significant.</p><p>'What?' Ron asks blankly. 'You're happy he <em>cut your ear off</em>?! What, you think it made you the more badass twin or something?'</p><p>'<em>Excuse</em> you,' Fred says indignantly.</p><p>George rolls his eyes. 'You are as observant as a bloody worm sometimes, honestly.'</p><p>'I've seen more intelligent mucus,' Fred agrees.</p><p>'<em>Oh!</em>' Hermione gasps.</p><p>'Finally, we have a sign of intelligence at the table. Thank Merlin, I was just about to abandon ship and go join the Ravenclaws,' George drawls.</p><p>'I'm off to Hufflepuff Gred, they've got cookies,' Fred says seriously.</p><p>'He healed your ear!?' Hermione exclaims. 'I thought that was impossible!'</p><p>Ron's jaw drops. 'Your ear's healed?!'</p><p>'Finally, he catches on,' George says sarcastically.</p><p>'Only took him three months,' Fred says wryly.</p><p>'How?!' Hermione demands.</p><p>'That's great,' Neville says.</p><p>'You've been healed for three months and you didn't tell anybody!?' Ron exclaims, annoyed.</p><p>'I wasn't exactly hiding it,' George points out.</p><p>'I thought it was a glamour!' Ron says indignantly. 'I thought you were self conscious!'</p><p>George scoffs. Fred snorts. 'Yeah, about as self conscious as a bloody peacock, this one.'</p><p>'At least peacocks have functioning eyes,' George replies sarcastically.</p><p>'So your ear's all better, then?' Harry asks curiously, his frantic eating forgotten.</p><p>'Snape waved his wand, sang a lullaby and fixed it right up,' Fred confirms.</p><p>'But the Dark magic...?' Hermione protests.</p><p>'He's the one that invented the spell,' Harry points out.</p><p>'Yeah, turns out that having someone who actually knows the counter curse is dead handy,' George says lightly. 'Who knew?'</p><p>'Light spells can't heal Dark curses, but Dark spells can heal them just fine,' Fred informs Hermione, taking pity on her intellectual curiosity.</p><p>'So Snape healed you over the summer?' Harry asks.</p><p>'Yeah, git summoned me to his hospital bed like bloody royalty at the end of June and then gave Pomfrey a heart attack when he healed all the scarring,' George says cheerfully. 'He knows a lot of handy healing spells.'</p><p>'Well, he did manage to partially heal himself after getting attacked by Nagini,' Hermione points out. 'It makes sense that he'd have healing knowledge.'</p><p>'He's really smart,' Harry blurts, and then immediately wants to spellotape his own mouth shut.</p><p>But instead of mocking him, the twins nod in agreement. 'Oh, he's brainy all right,' Fred says.</p><p>'It's not just anyone that comes up with a curse and counter so complicated not even Pomfrey can figure it out.'</p><p>'Didn't he tell her the counterspell?' Hermione asks.</p><p>'Yeah, but that's not the tricky part,' Fred explains.</p><p>'It's the music,' George adds.</p><p>'What?' Hermione asks, baffled.</p><p>But Harry, who has witnessed Snape heal <em>Sectumsempra</em>-inflicted wounds before, knows exactly what they're talking about. 'You mean the singing?'</p><p>'Got it in one,' Fred confirms brightly.</p><p>'It's not actually him singing, you know,' George says conversationally.</p><p>Fred grins. 'It's his magic.'</p><p>'What?!' they all demand in unison.</p><p>'That's why Pomfrey can't do it,' George continues. 'He's the only one that's ever figured it out, as far as I know.'</p><p>'He makes his magic <em>sing</em>,' Fred says, and he sounds almost reverent.</p><p>'Don't have a clue how he does it, but it's wicked,' George says.</p><p>'And trust me, we've tried,' Fred adds.</p><p>'He's a mystery,' George says dramatically.</p><p>'Maybe we should write <em>him</em> a love letter,' Fred suggests brightly. 'Give old Snape a heart attack and send him a sonnet.'</p><p>'Forget the Chosen One, he can't even sing me to sleep with his musical magic,' George agrees.</p><p>'My heart lies in the dungeons...' Fred says dreamily.</p><p>'Oh, Master, don't you know you light a fire in me...' George swoons.</p><p>'You two put oil in his shampoo in third year,' Ron says flatly. 'He's never trusting you again, never mind courting you.'</p><p>Fred and George sigh heavily and bemoan their misery to the enchanted ceiling.</p><p>Neville looks faint. Or maybe just ill.</p><p>• • • • • •</p><p>Harry arrives to Snape's classroom fifteen minutes early. He's pretty sure he's never been this early in his life for anything. Harry didn't even show up to his own criminal trial on time (not that that was his fault, but the point still stands). He almost considers waiting outside the door, because Snape seems like the sort of person that would find showing up too early just as irritating as showing up late, but Harry's excitement wins out and he cautiously knocks on the classroom door and pulls it open.</p><p>'Come in,' Snape's voice says from somewhere inside the ingredients store. A moment later he appears, leaning on his thin black cane. When he catches sight of Harry, his face twitches with surprise and he glances at a <em>Tempus</em> he casts silently and wandlessly.</p><p>'Mr Potter,' he says slowly. 'You're... early.'</p><p>Harry doesn't say anything, because any words he blurts now will no doubt be overly eager and reveal just how much he's been looking forward to this.</p><p>'In that case, you may begin carving,' Snape instructs after a slight pause. 'Do <em>not</em> activate the symbols, do you understand?'</p><p>Harry is slightly disappointed he won't get to draw out his magic again, but he hides the reaction and simply nods, because it's easy to figure out why Snape wouldn't want Harry's magic saturating his classroom. 'Yes, sir.'</p><p>And so an hour slips away, with Harry hunched on a low stool in front of the benches students brew at, carefully carving the symbols and focusing on the effect he wants to create with each. Snape had been <em>very</em> clear in his repeated reminders that the symbols only work when there is a strong intent, focus and will.</p><p>Snape spends the first hour grading potions and essays from his students, and just as it had before, his hand soon begins to shake. This time, however, Harry is careful not to stare, and simply concentrates on his own task whilst subtly glancing at Snape every five minutes or so to make sure the man hasn't collapsed again.</p><p>Once the hour has passed, Snape puts away his scrolls and rises to his feet. Harry glances at him, mildly concerned that the Potions Master will be unsteady, but Snape shows no signs of imminent collapse so Harry says nothing. He'd managed to carve all of the symbols into one tabletop - four symbols at each end, and eight and nine on the sides. Harry links the last symbols quickly and then packs up the tools, hurrying to stand near Snape and begin his tutoring.</p><p>Snape inspects his work on the desk first, revealing nothing of his opinion beyond a crisp, 'Good,' which makes Harry smile proudly. He doesn't activate the symbols like Harry is expecting, however; instead he leads him out of the Potions classroom and into an adjacent room, which is surprisingly large and almost completely empty. An abandoned classroom, Harry assumes, except it seems too big for that.</p><p>After Vanishing the dust - the spell seems to be more difficult for Snape than it should be, and Harry frowns worriedly - Snape moves to the front of the room and gestures for Harry to take a place in the centre. He does so warily, wondering if Snape is about to start duelling him.</p><p>'Cast as many Stunners as you can at the far wall,' Snape instructs him, pointing to the opposite end of the room. 'Do it silently and as quickly as you can.'</p><p>Harry blinks in surprise before pulling his wand from its sheath and turning his back to Snape, focusing on the far end of the classroom. He takes a breath, concentrates and then begins throwing <em>Stupefy</em> after <em>Stupefy</em> at the wall.</p><p>For several minutes there is nothing but the rushing sound of offensive magic soaring through the air, and the small rumbles and bangs as the spells explode against the stone wall of the classroom. Harry keeps waiting for Snape to stop or correct him, but the man never does, so he continues to throw Stunners without letting a word pass his lips.</p><p>It's difficult. Harry didn't expect it to be this difficult, but it is. Nonverbal casting is not one of his strengths, even if he is passable at it. Harry has a tendency to yell his spells in the heat of the moment, especially when he feels attacked or caged in. It's instinctual. Shouting his spells also seems to give them a small boost of power, perhaps because of the emotional link tied to his intent.</p><p>But it also makes him completely predictable.</p><p>Eventually Snape's voice cuts through the crackle of magic, and he commands quietly, 'Stop.'</p><p>Harry halts his spellcasting, letting his right arm drop to his side as he takes a deep breath. He feels like he's just done a workout, even though he's barely moved.</p><p>'Your magical power is sufficient,' Snape says, walking slightly closer to him but remaining several feet away from the wall now soaked in Harry's magic. 'Your nonverbal casting is passable, but it is noticeably hindering you. Your casting time is atrocious.'</p><p>Harry absorbs that silently. 'I'm not casting them quickly enough?' he asks hesitantly, feeling a bit disappointed with himself. He hadn't thought he was <em>that</em> bad.</p><p>'You should be capable of casting double or even triple the number of spells in the same time frame,' Snape informs him tonelessly. 'You need to improve your nonverbal casting. It takes you far too long to throw a Stunner silently.' He pulls his wand from his sleeve and aims it at the far wall. 'Watch.'</p><p>And then Snape is throwing Stunners like a demon straight from the depths of hell. His wand hand is practically a blur, he casts so quickly, flicking up and down in swift motions even as the rest of his body remains perfectly motionless. The air in front of him is alight with jets of red light that are so close together they appear almost as a continuous scarlet beam crashing into the wall.</p><p>Harry can't stop the way his face slackens in shocked awe.</p><p>Snape has never fought like this before. Harry has duelled him himself, has watched Snape battle McGonagall... but he wasn't like this. Never as quick and predatory as <em>this</em>.</p><p>He's dangerous, Harry realises. Snape might actually be one of the most dangerous people he's ever met.</p><p>And yet Professor McGonagall had forced him to flee without Snape ever landing a spell on her. The Carrows had even been accidentally disarmed...</p><p>
  <em>Accidentally?</em>
</p><p>Harry thinks back to the duel, the way Snape had deflected McGonagall's spells and consequently hit the Carrows. He'd deflected the spells <em>backwards</em>, not at the crowd of defenceless students or even his opponent, but straight at the Carrows...</p><p>He'd never even sent a spell at McGonagall, had he? He'd just defended himself.</p><p>He'd just made sure no students got hurt, taken out Voldemort's Death Eaters and refused to lay so much as a finger on McGonagall.</p><p>Harry sucks in a breath. He'd never thought about it before - at the time he'd still thought Snape was a loyal Death Eater, had even yelled accusations at him...</p><p>But he was always Dumbledore's man. Always.</p><p>And when he'd duelled Harry, in sixth year... Snape had merely parried each of his spells; had thrown angry words but nothing more until Harry had taunted him and the man had lashed out in pain and fury and years old resentment. Harry had tried, again, to attack him, yelled that Snape was a coward, had even tried to <em>Crucio</em> the man... and Snape had knocked him backwards with a spell like a whip and Disarmed him.</p><p>And that was all he'd done. He could've killed Harry right there, could've left him horribly scarred or maimed... but he hadn't.</p><p>In fact, Snape had actually stopped the Carrows from torturing him.</p><p>Harry shuts his eyes for a moment. He feels... he doesn't know what he feels. Is there even a name for the ball of emotions writhing in his stomach and chest? Shame? Guilt? Regret? All of that, certainly, but there's more there too...</p><p>Gratitude, Harry thinks slowly. And... and respect.</p><p>That respect doesn't fade, even when Snape has to abruptly stop, panting from exertion and trembling all over. Clearly he's pushed himself too far, and now the Curse woven beneath his skin is punishing him for it.</p><p>'Again, Mr Potter,' Snape rasps, the words rough from his scarred throat. 'I want you casting spells as quick as the lightning on your forehead.'</p><p>Harry straightens up determinedly, rolls his shoulders and begins.</p><p>• • • • • •</p><p>The third week back at Hogwarts seems to speed by even more quickly than the first two. Harry rushes between classes - Transfiguring their nails to claws with McGonagall, Charming their class notes to write themselves with Flitwick, comparing Guatemalan and Abyssinian shrivelfigs with Sprout, watching Jenkins put on another light show in Defence, and learning about the suitability of different types of slime, mucus and powdered horns for thickening potions with Snape - and spends at least an hour or two every day in the library with some combination of Hermione, Ron and occasionally Neville and Luna.</p><p>By the time Friday rolls around, Harry feels like he's been stomped on by a troll.</p><p>The weekend is more homework, more studying and revision, more hours camped in the library surrounded by books - but it's also fun, too. The Weasley twins hold a party by the Lake ("got to appreciate the warm weather while we've still got it, Harry") and convince the House Elves to provide enough food and drink to feed a small army. Almost the entirety of Gryffindor shows up, because of course they do, but Harry is pleasantly surprised by the number of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students that come, and even a handful of Slytherins.</p><p>Hermione can't decide whether she's approving of the Inter-House Unity or utterly unimpressed by the loud music, mess and noise that inevitably comes with enough Gryffindor students congregating anywhere without adult supervision.</p><p>And no, the Weasley twins really don't count, since they're some of the loudest of the lot.</p><p>Once Fred and George have impressed everyone by walking on water and inadvertently pissing off the Giant Squid enough that it makes an appearance and soaks the pair, the twins decide to let loose with their Charms and spell the shoes of anyone who asks to allow them to dance across the Lake. The firsties all think it's incredible, the Ravenclaws are chomping at the bit for the incantation and a sixth year Hufflepuff asks worriedly about them all drowning, but in the end there are no major mishaps and everybody has a good time.</p><p>It doesn't escape Harry's notice, however, that over the weekend excitement has picked up throughout the castle about the upcoming Festival. As the date creeps closer Harry's dread grows, and by Sunday evening he's ready to up sticks and move to Fuji. Even his growing fear and trepidation over reporting Jenkins is forgotten in the face of the frenzy that descends over his schoolmates.</p><p>However, all Harry's concern about his impending doom is forgotten when he takes his seat in the Potions classroom on Monday morning and Snape fails to make an appearance. The class waits five, ten, fifteen minutes, students murmuring to each other and glancing around the room like they expect Snape to leap out from behind his desk.</p><p>A particularly daring Ravenclaw checks the ingredients store and discovers it locked; no one dares to try Snape's office or - Merlin forbid - his personal rooms. They all glance at each other uncertainly, wondering what's happening.</p><p>'Do you think something happened?' Harry asks Hermione nervously.</p><p>'I'm sure he's fine, Harry,' Hermione says, trying her best to sound firm and reassuring despite the crinkle between her eyebrows.</p><p>When twenty minutes have passed, most students have pulled out books or homework to occupy themselves with, or started up conversations with their neighbours. Anthony Goldstein suggests going to McGonagall, and it's agreed that when half past nine comes, someone will go to the Headmistress if Snape still hasn't appeared.</p><p>'Tell me about shrivelfigs?' Hermione prompts gently, trying to distract Harry from his worry.</p><p>'They originate from Abyssinia, have aggressive roots and can survive in pretty much any environment as long as there's water...' Harry lists off distractedly, glancing at the classroom door again and willing Snape to walk through it. 'Their flowers are contained inside dark purple fruits - bright red or orange if they're Guatemalan - and the leaves are medicinal and... deciduous...' Harry trails off. 'Something's wrong, 'Mione.'</p><p>Hermione sighs and sets her revision notes down. 'There's nothing we can do except wait, Harry,' she says quietly.</p><p>'We could... I dunno, go get McGonagall, or check the infirmary...'</p><p>'If something has happened, I'm sure Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey are handling it,' Hermione reassures him softly.</p><p>'What if it happened on Friday evening, and no one noticed until this morning?' Harry asks, horror filling him.</p><p>'Harry, stop,' Hermione says firmly. 'Working yourself into a panic doesn't help anyone, least of all Professor Snape. The House Elves would have noticed if something was wrong when they were cleaning his room, and the Headmistress would have known if he didn't show up to any meals.'</p><p>Hermione's logic helps to calm Harry; he flushes when he realises he was working himself up over nothing. 'Sorry,' he apologises, embarrassed.</p><p>'It's alright,' Hermione replies evenly. 'You've never done well with sitting still when something is happening.' Her lips quirk.</p><p>Harry smiles slightly, cheeks still red. 'Yeah,' he admits, slightly abashed.</p><p>'Well, it's nice that you care about him,' Hermione says lightly, but there's a question buried there, and she's leaving it up to him whether to answer it or pretend not to notice.</p><p>Harry blushes again. Merlin. He's a mess.</p><p>'I just... last Monday, during the tutoring...' Harry rubs at the back of his neck. 'I just... I just realised how much he's actually done for us, you know? And how hard it must have been. And I know he was such a prick, but...'</p><p>'But that's not all he was,' Hermione finishes.</p><p>'Yeah,' Harry agrees. 'I just... I guess I never really properly thought about it all before. I kind of... brushed it aside.'</p><p>'You had more important things to focus on,' Hermione corrects firmly.</p><p>Harry's lips twitch. 'Yeah, well, I dunno, I just realised last Monday after I watched him demonstrate fast casting that... I don't think he was ever actually <em>trying</em>, before. During the war, I mean. Any time he had to fight someone on our side, I think he held back.'</p><p>'That makes sense,' Hermione says. 'He couldn't outwardly ally himself with us, but he could try to aid us without anyone noticing.'</p><p>Harry nods, lost in thought. 'I don't think I realised that until now,' he says after a moment. 'I...' he hesitates. 'I'm not angry with him anymore,' he says eventually.</p><p>Hermione nods seriously. 'You probably never were. And he wasn't truly angry with you, either. Professor Snape was angry with your father, and you were angry with how he treated you because of that, and for being a Death Eater. You both thought you knew the other, when in reality you didn't, and you both ended up hating the person you thought the other was. But now you're older and the war is over and you're so different from your teenage father that not even Professor Snape can deny it, and you can both see each other clearly.'</p><p>'And there's nothing to hate,' Harry says, surprised.</p><p>'And there's nothing to hate,' Hermione agrees, smiling.</p><p>Harry feels like he's in the middle of having an epiphany.</p><p>His momentous realisation is interrupted by the sound of the classroom door opening, and everyone swings around in their seats to stare at the second year Slytherin student standing nervously in the doorway, clutching the handle tightly.</p><p>'Um,' he says, and turns bright red.</p><p>'It's alright,' Blaise Zabini calls out. 'Take your time.'</p><p>The boy sucks in a deep breath and straightens his shoulders. He looks terrified, but he's doing an admirable job of pushing past it.</p><p>'Um, Professor Snape sent me,' the boy says, and immediately he has everyone's undivided attention. He doesn't seem to appreciate it. 'He said that he won't be teaching this class, so you should all read chapter seventeen in your textbooks and then revise.'</p><p>The poor kid has barely finished speaking before he's being peppered with questions.</p><p>'Why?' Ron demands.</p><p>'What happened?' Zabini asks.</p><p>'Is he alright?' Harry can't resist blurting.</p><p>'So he's not coming back?' Samuels asks.</p><p>'Did he say anything else?' Mulligan queries.</p><p>The second year stares at them all with wide eyes, looking completely overwhelmed.</p><p>'Alright, stop bombarding him with questions!' Hermione says firmly, and the room quiets. 'What's your name?' she asks kindly.</p><p>'Um,' the boy says, looking startled. 'Augustus G-Greengrass.'</p><p>'Alright, thank you Augustus,' Hermione says, smiling at him. Augustus looks completely overwhelmed by getting a smile from one of the infamous Golden Trio. 'Do you know why Professor Snape cancelled today's class?'</p><p>'He's in the hospital wing,' Augustus blurts, and instantly there is a wave of noise in the classroom.</p><p>Hermione glares at them all, and the swell of voices dwindles back down to silence.</p><p>'Do you know what happened?' Hermione prods.</p><p>Augustus fidgets with the front of his school robes. 'Um, there was a duel in the corridors between some fourth years, and a stray spell nearly hit him,' Augustus explains nervously. 'And then - well, I don't know for sure...'</p><p>'Just what you've heard is fine,' Hermione says reassuringly, giving him another warm smile. Augustus turns pink.</p><p>'Um, everyone's saying that he just fell over,' Augustus says in a rush. 'Even though Emery swears the spell didn't hit him.'</p><p>Harry feels dread begin to pool in his gut.</p><p>'It was only one spell that nearly hit him?' Hermione checks.</p><p>'Yes,' Augustus replies, sounding more sure of himself.</p><p>'But there was a duel going on in the corridor before he arrived?'</p><p>'Yes. There was a big group of fourth years fighting,' Augustus says, and Hermione glances at Harry and then Ron. They share a significant look, because they can read further into this than the other clueless students.</p><p>Snape had tried to interrupt a duel and the foreign magic had triggered the Cruciatus Curse still lingering in his body. Harry just hopes someone had enough foresight to hold his head still and make sure he was okay.</p><p>There's silence for a moment as everyone absorbs what they've just been told, before a horrifying thought strikes Harry.</p><p>'Did anyone cast any spells on Snape?' he demands. Augustus stares at him, perhaps shocked that the Golden Boy of Gryffindor and Slayer of the Dark Lord is directly addressing a second year Slytherin student.</p><p>'Um, you mean like a Stunner?' Augustus asks, confused and nervous.</p><p>'No, Harry means did anyone try to revive Professor Snape or use a healing spell on him,' Hermione explains calmly. 'Did someone fetch Madam Pomfrey?'</p><p>'Yes, Pomfrey took him away, but he was already half awake by then,' Augustus says, and Harry slumps in relief.</p><p>'What do you two know?' Zabini suddenly demands, eyeing Harry and Hermione suspiciously.</p><p>Harry keeps his mouth shut and doesn't say anything. Hermione looks extremely uncomfortable.</p><p>'We don't actually <em>know</em> anything,' she says hesitantly.</p><p>'Hermione,' Harry says warningly. She glances at him, and he gives her a look that he hopes conveys, <em>this isn't ours to share around</em>.</p><p>'He's our Head of House,' Zabini says stiffly. 'We deserve to know what's happening and if he's alright.'</p><p>'I'm sure he's fine,' Hermione says quickly. Zabini isn't satisfied with her vague reassurance. To be fair, Harry probably wouldn't be either.</p><p>'Does this have something to do with what happened two weeks ago?' Samuels asks hesitantly, referencing Snape's seizure.</p><p>Hermione purses her lips. 'It's his personal business,' she says uncertainly.</p><p>'How hypocritical of you,' Zabini sneers.</p><p>'I know exactly what it's like to have the whole school talking about your private life,' Harry snaps back. 'I'm not doing that to anyone, least of all Snape.'</p><p>'I thought you hated him,' Zabini challenges.</p><p>'I did,' Harry says truthfully, because there's no point denying it. 'I don't anymore.' His voice is quiet and flat.</p><p>Zabini clearly didn't expect his answer, because he goes quiet and stares at Harry like a puzzle that doesn't make sense. It's oddly reminiscent of the way Snape had looked at Harry the week before during tutoring, and Harry wants to turn away and hide behind a book, but he doesn't.</p><p>'Thank you, Augustus,' Hermione says into the silence, and the second year blushes and scurries away.</p><p>The rest of the class is spent reading chapter seventeen as instructed, and then going back over everything they've learned so far. The moment they're out of the classroom and in the relative privacy of the corridor, Harry turns to Ron and Hermione and murmurs, 'I'm going to find an empty classroom.'</p><p>'Why?' Ron asks immediately.</p><p>'To transform,' Harry replies simply. Hermione's face twists with a complicated series of emotions; she understands exactly what he's doing and why, but only half of her agrees with it.</p><p>'We should go back to the Tower,' she argues halfheartedly. 'Someone could walk in on us.'</p><p>Harry shrugs. 'It'll be fine,' he says dismissively.</p><p>Hermione sighs.</p><p>They both follow Harry into the first abandoned classroom they find, which happens to be next to the large room Snape had tutored Harry in. Once Hermione has locked the door and warded it as best she can, Harry drops his bag on the floor, breathes deeply and then twists and folds his body down and in... skin becoming paler and sprouting feathers... arms becoming wings, nose flattening and mouth becoming a beak...</p><p>'You're much bigger,' Ron remarks casually, eyeing Harry's new red and gold form. Harry trills lightly and cranes his head back to admire himself, using his beak to groom any stray or disturbed feathers.</p><p>'You've moulted,' Hermione says quietly, kneeling down and running a careful hand across Harry's back.</p><p>'That's good, right?' Ron asks, crouching down on Harry's other side and inspecting his scarlet plumage. 'That means he's an adult?'</p><p>Hermione's nose wrinkles. 'I haven't had much time to research the life cycle of a Phoenix, and there's not much information about them because they're so rare...'</p><p>'But,' Ron says hopefully.</p><p>Hermione sighs. 'Yes, I think he's an adult Phoenix now. Or at least the avian equivalent of a young adult.' She rummages in her bag and produces a scroll that she smooths out and skim reads. 'I think he's a fledgling or immature adult,' she says at last. 'But I don't know what the distinguishing physical features should be for a Phoenix at different stages of its life cycle...'</p><p>'That's okay,' Ron says. 'It doesn't really matter if he's a proper adult or not, does it? As long as he can cry, we're sorted.'</p><p>Hermione stuffs her scroll back in her bag, looking resigned. 'Yes, but hatchling Phoenixes can't cry,' she says, running her hand through her hair. 'I don't think chicks or fledglings can, either.' She huffs. 'The books weren't very clear.'</p><p>Harry chirps and nudges her hand. Hermione smiles down at him and then Conjures an empty glass vial for him. 'Alright, go on then,' she says with fond exasperation.</p><p>Harry cocks his head to the side and wonders how exactly he's supposed to make himself cry. He can't cry on command normally, but this seems like an instinctive ability Phoenixes should have.</p><p>'Do I need to read you a sad bedtime story?' Ron asks sarcastically after a few seconds of watching Harry merely blink at the vial. Hermione hits him and he shuts up.</p><p>Harry closes his eyes and momentarily ignores the presence of his best friends. He has two options: he can either try to bury himself in his worst memories and hope they trigger enough of a breakdown that he cries - which doesn't exactly sound ideal - or...</p><p>Or he can follow the advice Snape drilled into his head last week. Because Phoenix tears aren't just tears, are they? They're magical. So surely the reason that Harry cries them must matter. If there is a strong enough <em>intent</em> behind them...</p><p>Harry breathes slowly and deeply, and remembers the horror and fear he'd felt when Snape was seizing on the floor in front of him. Recalls how panicked he'd been, and how he'd tried to cushion his head to stop his skull from cracking...</p><p>He remembers the feel of the sleek black cane in his hand, how pale and delusional Snape had been when he'd returned it to him in the hospital wing. Thinks about how Snape doesn't deserve to be trapped like this, after all he's done and sacrificed for them all...</p><p><em>I want Snape to get better</em>, Harry thinks fiercely. <em>I want him to walk down the corridor without his cane, without pain, without fear that a stray spell could cause a seizure. I want him to be free to cast his magic as much as he'd like without it putting strain on his body. I want him to write without his hand shaking, I want...</em></p><p>
  <em>I want him to be happy.</em>
</p><p>Something hot pulses in Harry's chest, and the feeling surges up through him until it feels like it's filling his veins with something powerful and forceful and indescribable.</p><p>It's not grief, like Harry expected. Instead he feels fierce and determined, like he's about to charge through a hundred walls of fire just to get Snape to safety on the other side.</p><p>Instinct takes ahold of Harry, and he tips his head back and cries out, a loud, magical call vibrating through the air around him. He can feel his magic pulsing out of him, and hears someone gasp, feels the press of something against his head, but he ignores it and focuses on the feeling swelling inside him.</p><p><em>Tears</em>, Harry thinks. <em>I need tears to heal him. He deserves to be healed, and to be happy and healthy and whole, and I'm going to give that to him</em>.</p><p>His eyes are hot and burning, suddenly, and Harry feels something wet sliding down his face. He concentrates on his intent - <em>healing, happiness, safety, peace</em> - and tries to inject as much of his magic into the tears as he can, like he did with the symbols the week before. He can't tell if he's successful, because he doesn't dare open his eyes and risk the tears drying up. Harry simply continues to picture the way Snape's body had jerked and how he'd groaned in pain, and how much Harry wants that pain to end, and the shaking hand he wishes would stay strong and still...</p><p>Harry trills again, a bright, cheerful sound that lifts his spirits. He ruffles his feathers and lowers his head, opening his eyes as the rushing feeling of magic and power within him ebbs and fades.</p><p>Hermione is staring at him with parted lips and wide eyes. She looks stunned. When Harry turns his head to peer at Ron, he looks utterly gobsmacked.</p><p>'Mighty Merlin,' Ron breathes out, finally recovering enough that his mouth is no longer hanging open. 'That was... bloody hell.'</p><p>Harry cocks his head. <em>What?</em></p><p>'<em>Harry</em>,' Hermione whispers faintly.</p><p>Harry turns his head back to look at her, and then follows her gaze down to the glass vial in her hand. It's filled with clear, colourless liquid - his tears - but it's obviously not plain water. There's something <em>dancing</em> in the vial - tiny sparkles and specks of light and magic that make it look like something that belongs to a fairy or some other magical creature. The effect is beautiful, almost as if there is glitter or fairy dust suspended in the water.</p><p>Hope rushes through Harry's chest. It worked. It has to have worked. The tears look so magical, <em>surely</em> they'll be able to heal Snape...</p><p>Harry takes a step back and then transforms, shifting back into his normal human body. He grabs his wand, fumbling with it in his excitement, and Conjures a glass dropper. It's a little wonky from his haste, but it looks functional, so Harry rolls up his left sleeve to expose the ugly scar Pettigrew had left him with after he'd stolen Harry's blood and uses the dropper to take a small amount of his tears and then splash them onto his scar.</p><p>There's a tingling feeling, like magic racing under his skin, and then the scar fades a little where the tears had been dropped.</p><p>Harry doesn't know what he feels. Delighted that the tears work? Disappointed that they don't heal more? Fawkes had only cried a couple of tears onto Harry, and they'd healed a bloody wound and <em>Basilisk venom poisoning</em>... yet his own tears can't even heal a simple scar?</p><p>'They're not as strong as they should be,' Harry says, voice flat and dejected. Is it because he's not a real Phoenix? Did he do something wrong? Are Animagus ingredients simply weaker? Is Harry's Phoenix form not old and mature enough yet?</p><p>'I think...' Hermione trails off, staring at Harry's faded scar before rolling up her own sleeve, revealing the <em>MUDBLOOD</em> carved into her arm. The scar is healed now, puckered and red-pink, but Harry will never forget the sound of Hermione screaming.</p><p>Hermione drags her wand across her arm, and to Harry's horror she slices open her skin in a straight line through her scarring. 'Hermione!' he chokes out, and Ron makes a similar pained exclamation behind him.</p><p>'It's alright,' she says dismissively, ignoring the blood spilling down her wrist and hand, reaching for the dropper Harry is still holding. She refills it, and then lets a few of the tears splatter directly into her open cut.</p><p>Before their eyes, the wound begins sealing itself shut, just like the puncture mark on Harry's arm had when he'd been bitten by the Basilisk. Hermione drops a few more tears into the wound before it shuts completely, and Harry watches in amazement as the ugly word written in scars on her arm slowly begins to fade, until it's so faint he can barely see it anymore.</p><p>Hermione smiles.</p><p>'What...? Why did you do that?!' Harry demands, stuck somewhere between lingering horror and amazement.</p><p>'Well, we know from Neville that Phoenix tears are less effective on old wounds,' Hermione says matter-of-factly. 'Likely because scarring isn't technically an injury, so the magic probably thinks that the wound is already healed and doesn't do anything. But if you reopen the wound...'</p><p>'Then it heals it,' Harry finishes, glancing back down at his own arm. Hesitantly, he points his wand at the ugly slash down his left forearm and prepares to trace it with a <em>Diffindo</em>.</p><p>'Numb your arm first!' Hermione says sharply.</p><p>'I don't know any numbing spells apart from <em>Ferula</em>,' Harry admits.</p><p>'Then ask me!' Hermione says irritably. 'Don't just go slicing your arm open without something to alleviate the pain!' She points her wand at his arm. '<em>Sine dolore</em>,' she casts firmly, and a moment later Harry's arm tingles and goes numb.</p><p>'Thanks,' he says cheerfully, and then slices his arm open.</p><p>A splash of Phoenix tears later, and his arm is healed and whole again. He siphons away the blood impatiently, revealing his bare arm, which is smooth and pink, completely free of scarring.</p><p>Harry's mouth falls open slightly, and he laughs, shocked and delighted. 'It worked!'</p><p>He turns to Ron and Hermione, only to discover that Ron is testing it on himself, too. The swirling scars on Ron's arm from the tentacles in the Department of Mysteries are faint, and it only takes some small, thin cuts that are roughly the same shape as his scars to heal them completely.</p><p>They've depleted half of the Phoenix tears by now, so they stopper the vial and smile excitedly at each other.</p><p>'I can't believe it worked,' Harry says wonderingly, running his fingers over the smooth skin of his inner forearm.</p><p>'We still need to wait and see if the healing stays or if it's just some sort of temporary Transfiguration that wears off after a couple of hours,' Hermione reminds them, but she's just as fascinated by her own healed skin.</p><p>'Yeah...' Ron says, rubbing at his bare wrists. He suddenly lifts his head to stare at Harry. 'What was that... singing thing you did earlier?'</p><p>'What?' Harry asks, nonplussed.</p><p>'You looked up at the ceiling and... squawked...'</p><p>'Called out,' Hermione interjects.</p><p>'Yeah, and then... it was like... I dunno, shivers up my spine...'</p><p>'There was a pulse of... magic,' Hermione explains, 'after you cried out. It was...' She struggles for a word.</p><p>'Amazing,' Ron supplies.</p><p>'Yes, and very beautiful,' Hermione says. 'I felt very... peaceful. And happy.'</p><p>Harry stares at them. That... had not been intentional.</p><p>'I think it was a proper Phoenix Call,' Hermione says, and there's something wondrous shining in her eyes. 'It made me feel like... like magic had wrapped round my soul, and everything was alright.'</p><p>'Hope,' Ron says simply. 'I felt hope.'</p><p>'Yes, and... a sort of joy,' Hermione agrees. 'It's... it's honestly indescribable.'</p><p>'Oh,' Harry says.</p><p>'How did you do that?' Hermione asks curiously, looking excited.</p><p>'I don't have a clue,' Harry says flatly, and Ron laughs. He perks up slightly. 'Hey, d'you think it'd help Snape?'</p><p>'We agreed to test everything out first!' Hermione reminds him quickly. 'Thoroughly!'</p><p>'Yeah, but... never mind.'</p><p>'I'm not saying we can't help him, Harry,' Hermione says gently. 'I'm just saying we should take our time and make sure we do it right.'</p><p>'Okay,' he agrees, slumping and laying down on the floor. He feels rather exhausted, even though it's not even lunchtime.</p><p>'If only Skeeter could see you now...' Ron says wistfully, grinning at the half-full vial of sparkling Phoenix tears.</p><p>'She'd have a stroke,' Harry says blandly, and Ron laughs again, sounding almost giddy.</p><p>'Are you high on Phoenix magic?' Harry asks despairingly as his two best friends sit and grin at him happily.</p><p>'Aren't you?' Hermione asks cheerfully.</p><p>'I'm wrecked,' Harry responds, and closes his eyes for a nap. 'Wake me for lunch, yeah?'</p><p>'Sure,' Hermione agrees easily, and it's a sure sign that she's tripping on cloud nine when she doesn't even try to cajole him into doing some revision instead.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A/N: I'm using movie canon for what happened to the Carrows, because I like it more; the duel with McGonagall was awesome and gave so much depth to Snape's character. So... sorry not sorry.</p><p>Also, I'm completely ignoring movie canon in regards to Blaise. Because fanfiction. So basically I'm head-canoning (is that even a word) that the Zabinis and Greengrasses mostly stayed neutral during the war (as much as they could) so they're still in eighth year, whilst the Malfoys, Notts, Crabbes and Goyles didn't, which is why none of those students are in Hogwarts anymore (they're being privately tutored or went to Durmstrang or something).</p><p>Basically this fic is already crammed with enough subplots and minor characters, and I figured throwing Draco into the mix would only make that a hundred times worse, so I've left him out for pacing reasons.</p><p>Unless you actually want to still be reading this fifty years from now.</p><p>P.S. the temptation to name this chapter "Cry Me a River, Baby" or something equally ridiculous ("I'm Wet for You") was so strong...</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. And So It Begins...</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A/N: And we finally get to the Festival!!! Hooray!!!</p><p>Took me long enough.... &gt;.&gt; &lt;.&lt;</p><p>Once again, I'd like to thank all of you wonderful, amazing commenters. I was having a rough night last week and when I came on and saw all these lovely messages I actually cried a bit lol. You guys are the best. So thank you for filling my email inbox up with little bursts of sunshine!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry spends Tuesday evening planning his funeral.</p><p>'We'll start using the Cloak,' Ron suggests, a little desperately. 'And... and we can Transfigure you into a redhead between classes now that we've learned that <em>Crinus Muto</em> spell...'</p><p>'How about a Nosebleed Nougat?' George suggests cheerfully from where he's perched on the spare bed that should've been Dean's. 'Or a Puking Pastille? You can claim you're sick during the Feast tomorrow...'</p><p>'Pomfrey'll know,' Harry moans miserably, staring up at the top of his four poster bed from where he's laying flat on his back. 'Why'd they have to have a bloody feast for the Festival, anyway? It's a load of shit.'</p><p>Fred snorts. 'I don't think they gave old McGonagall much of a choice, or there wouldn't be so much as a Brussel sprout for it.'</p><p>'It's because of the Ministry official that's coming here to officially open the whole thing,' Neville adds, unwrapping some toffee. 'They insisted that there was a celebration of some sort. Apparently they originally wanted a ball with proper formal dancing and loads of famous people invited, but McGonagall told them that this is an institution of education and enlightenment, not pandering to socialites and drunken shenanigans.'</p><p>Ron laughs. 'Has she <em>seen</em> Gryffindor Tower after we win a Quidditch match?'</p><p>Neville shrugs. 'I think it was more the principle of the thing.'</p><p>'Well, it <em>is</em> all a bit ridiculous,' Hermione says. 'I was talking to Anthony about it earlier, and he said that the reason the Ministry is so keen to promote the Festival is because they're hoping to boost the birth rates!'</p><p>George makes a face. 'Sounds like something the Ministry would do.'</p><p>'They did something similar after the last war, didn't they?' Fred says, tossing up an Every Flavour bean and catching it in his mouth. 'Oh, ginger flavour, lovely,' he says brightly.</p><p>'How appropriate,' George says dryly.</p><p>'I thought there was a post-war baby boom last time?' Neville asks uncertainly.</p><p>'Yeah, but there won't be this time,' George says matter-of-factly. 'People are still mourning, grieving, traumatised, depressed... very few couples out there survived in tact and even want to have a kid right now.'</p><p>'Hence the Festival,' Fred finishes. 'Another brilliant solution from our wonderful Ministry.'</p><p>'So... what? They're hoping we'll all just get married and shag?' Harry asks incredulously.</p><p>'Oh, they don't even care if you get married at this point,' Fred says airily. 'They just want to boost the population numbers. We're at something like half of what we used to be.'</p><p>That's... horrifying.</p><p>'Fucking Voldemort, honestly,' George says lightly and steals one of Fred's jelly beans. His face screws up a moment later. 'Is that <em>spleen</em>!?'</p><p>'How do you even know what a spleen tastes like?' Ron asks suspiciously.</p><p>'You don't want to know,' George says at the same time that Fred says, 'Potions.'</p><p>'You two are mad,' Ron decides.</p><p>'Guilty as charged,' Fred says happily.</p><p>'They'll probably try to pressure you three into getting married, you know,' George says seriously, glancing at Harry, Ron and Hermione. 'Maybe even you too, Nev.'</p><p>'<em>Why?!</em>' Ron demands, horrified.</p><p>'Because you're the Saviours of our Sheeple,' Fred explains, waving a hand about absently. 'Where you lead, we follow. Theoretically.'</p><p>'Personally I'll be forging my own path, if that's alright with Your Highnesses,' George says sarcastically.</p><p>'So the Ministry thinks that if we get married, settle down and have children, the rest of the wizarding world will too?' Hermione demands indignantly.</p><p>'Don't shoot the messenger,' Fred says breezily.</p><p>'We never claimed the Ministry was intelligent,' George says through a yawn. He lies down with his head on Fred's stomach. Fred grunts but doesn't shove him off. 'Although you can't deny that you lot have a lot of power now. People will listen to you.'</p><p>'This is a nightmare,' Harry says dully.</p><p>'Fame and fortune are such hard burdens to bear,' Fred agrees. 'Poor you.'</p><p>'Oi,' Ron says threateningly.</p><p>'Alright, alright, we'll leave poor, miserable Harrykins alone,' Fred acquiesces, rolling his eyes and eating some more jelly beans. '<em>Merlin</em>, was that strawberry, chilli and vomit? What a combination.'</p><p>'And all red,' George says approvingly.</p><p>'Vomit isn't red,' Ron disagrees, wrinkling his nose in faint disgust.</p><p>'It is if it's bloody,' George replies cheerfully.</p><p>'What the fuck,' Ron groans.</p><p>'Language,' Hermione chastises mildly, and Ron actually looks regretful. Harry wonders how badly Ron's fallen head over heels again, if he's looking sorry for <em>swearing</em>.</p><p>'Well, I don't know about you, but I'm not knocking anybody up,' Harry says after a moment of silence.</p><p>'So you say,' Fred says.</p><p>'Just you wait, some dashing Lady - or Lord - will come and sweep you off your feet, and then you'll be buying a baby crib and regretting every last one of your pathetic life choices,' George says happily.</p><p>'Guys can't get pregnant,' Harry protests.</p><p>'Oh, you little unicorn,' Fred coos. 'How sweet, how naïve, how innocent and ignorant you are...'</p><p>'There's always adoption or surrogacy,' Hermione points out, because of course she does.</p><p>'And Transfiguration, if you marry someone talented enough,' George says blandly. 'Or I suppose you could beg McGonagall on bended knee to gift you a womb for nine months.'</p><p>'Reckon she'd have a heart attack,' Fred says.</p><p>'Nah, she'd just skin you alive and then rant about your academic career,' George replies lightly.</p><p>'Well, I'm still not getting married,' Harry says firmly. 'I'm not even going to court someone.'</p><p>'We believe you,' Fred says brightly.</p><p>'Oh, yeah, definitely,' George agrees, and then they both snort with laughter.</p><p>Harry glares at them.</p><p>• • • • • •</p><p>'And now, may I introduce...' Professor McGonagall's lips pinch. She looks incredibly irritated.</p><p>From his seat at Gryffindor table, Harry sighs deeply. He's sandwiched between Ron and Hermione, with Neville and the twins on the opposite side of the table. Theoretically, this will prevent him from being mobbed the second the Festival begins.</p><p>Theoretically.</p><p>'...Madam Teresa Harrows, from the Ministry of Magic's new Department of Domestic Cooperation and Development.'</p><p>A slim woman of average height with a mass of grey-brown curls and a beaming grin stands from her seat at the High Table and hurries around to stand at a golden podium that has been erected for the occasion.</p><p>'Thank you, Headmistress,' Harrows says eagerly. She turns to bestow all of the students gathered before her with a wide smile. 'It is an honour to be invited here today and to have the pleasure of opening the first official Eternal Love Entwining Festival!' Harrows begins happily. Harry finds her positivity irritating - although perhaps it's more the festival he associates her with that's pissing him off. 'Now, I won't make you wait <em>too</em> long, I'm sure you're all very keen eager to get this underway...' Harrows laughs lightly.</p><p>Harry glares at her. It doesn't make him feel much better, but he keeps doing it anyway.</p><p>Harrows goes off on a prepared speech about the amazing Eternal Entwining and its history. Having heard most of this already from Fred and George - but in a much more engaging fashion than this drivel - Harry mostly tunes her out and shares unimpressed looks with Ron.</p><p>He only starts paying attention again when Harrows begins to outline the official steps for the Festival that the Ministry has decided on. Apparently, someone had gotten too excited and decided to overcomplicate an already complicated courting process. In recognition of past traditions - or so Harrows claims - those that take part in the Festival will automatically receive a ribbon that wraps around their left wrist. White represents someone being courted, blue represents the suitor, and both together represent someone who is both courting and being courted.</p><p>Once the courting has been completed and the suits accepted by both parties, the ribbons turn red.</p><p>Harry is utterly unamused by this ridiculous idea. Hermione, surprisingly, is <em>furious</em>.</p><p>'They're tracking us!' she hisses venomously. 'No doubt they'll have something to say if none of us get ribbons!'</p><p>Harry's heart sinks as he processes her words.</p><p>The twins pull identical expressions of distaste. 'Well that sucks,' George says flatly.</p><p>'Our Ministry is just <em>so</em> fantastic,' Fred drawls.</p><p>Harrows clears her throat to regain the attention of the hall - having lost it with her unexpected ribbon announcement - and beams at them all. 'I know you're all very excited!' she says, and Ron snorts. 'But before we can begin I must first outline the various stages of the Festival...'</p><p>And so she rambles on, explaining what Harry already knows. He pays attention, however, because after the frivolous ribbon idea, he needs to make sure that the Ministry hasn't come up with anything else suitably bizarre, absurd and invasive that could catch him off guard in the coming weeks.</p><p>'The Offer of Friendship is the first stage of The Eternal Love Entwining Festival...' Harrows begins, and Harry is once again struck by how stupid the name is. 'This stage is used to show both your romantic and platonic feelings for the people you care about, and to develop a closer sense of kinship, loyalty and caring. You can also make an offer to someone whom you deeply respect or admire, or perhaps have lost the affections of but wish to regain...'</p><p>Harry can see a lot of new "friends" in his future. He wonders how exactly he's supposed to politely tell them all to piss off.</p><p>'Next is the Declaration of Intent, which declares your intention to court a person and outlines the reasons why you care for them and wish to be together... For the first two stages, the most common method is a love letter to your intended, although small gifts or tokens are also acceptable...'</p><p>'Can we request gifts? I'd like some bloody peace and quiet,' Harry mutters. Fred grins at him.</p><p>'The First Affection is the first proper demonstration of the depth of your love for your intended... Gift giving is common at this stage, as well as The Second Affection... The gifts are used as representations of your love... Multiple suitors may compete for the attention and affection of their intended at this stage...'</p><p>On and on Harrows goes, sounding increasingly excited about the entire spectacle. Ron munches on an orange that he produces from somewhere, although he seems to be paying attention to Harrows' words. Hermione frowns a lot and looks annoyed, whilst Neville seems rather enchanted by the whole thing.</p><p>The twins don't seem to be paying any attention at all; Harry is beginning to suspect that they've developed some sort of silent communication method, because they keep smiling at each other and shaking with suppressed laughter at random intervals.</p><p>He desperately wishes he could join in with whatever hijinks they're getting up to, because he's bored to death and just wants his dinner.</p><p>Harrows rambles on about going on dates, writing poetry and love letters, gifting flowers and signs of appreciation in between the official stages to demonstrate your commitment, generosity and loyalty to your intended... After the First or Second Affection, these gestures are usually returned by the intended if they approve of the suitor, she informs them all, and Harry wonders if sending your suitors Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes stink bombs in the mail is accepted or frowned upon.</p><p>Anonymous courting is one of the most alarming parts of the entire charade. Harry has already received more than enough creepy, disturbing and somewhat-threatening mail. He doesn't even want to imagine what the creeps of the world will dream up when they realise they can send him letters anonymously.</p><p>Harrows, of course, sees absolutely nothing wrong with anonymous courting, and even considers it "romantic" to win over your intended with your words and gestures alone. 'They fall for who you <em>truly</em> are,' she says passionately, and Harry wonders when who someone "truly is" became so thoroughly entangled with the size of their Gringotts vault.</p><p>Interestingly, suitors have no choice but to reveal themselves at the end of the Second Affection. They cannot make a Proposal anonymously, and the magic of the Festival will write their name on the inside of the ribbon automatically, whether they want it to or not.</p><p>That announcement is somewhat of a relief; if someone tries to send Harry something truly dangerous, he'll at least be able to catch the git because of the ribbons. The entire thing is still preposterous, but at least people can't send him poison and get away with it now.</p><p>To reject someone - not that Harrows can imagine why you'd ever want to, of course, unless you have more than one suitor - all you have to do is cut off their ribbon on your wrist ("And don't worry, only you can remove any of your ribbons!"). If someone rejects you, that person's ribbon will untie and fall off your wrist.</p><p>Harry gets the feeling there will be a lot of <em>Diffindo</em>s is his near future.</p><p>Once she has at long last finished blathering on about how the Festival will conclude on the winter equinox, Harrows finally waves her wand to officially commence the Festival.</p><p>Immediately, what seems like at least a hundred white ribbons appear out of thin air and begin wrapping themselves around Harry's left forearm and wrist. He lets out a noise of horrified surprise, jerking his sleeve back as his arm becomes mummified in white silk.</p><p>Ron, Hermione, Neville and George have each suffered a similar fate, although to a less humiliating degree - they all have less than twenty ribbons, barring Neville, who has close to thirty.</p><p>Harry thinks he's got at least triple that, and begins wondering whether the blood flow in his arm is about to be restricted.</p><p>Thankfully, the ribbons tie themselves fairly loosely - although not enough to slip off, sadly - so Harry's hand doesn't start turning purple. Pulling his wand from the sheath strapped to his inner forearm proves to be a bit of a challenge, given that he's now drowning in ribbons, but after a few moments of wiggling and tugging he manages to get it free.</p><p>George has already cut his ribbon off, letting the white silk fall to the tabletop. Fred sets it on fire with a surprising amount of glee, whilst George rolls his eyes and bumps their shoulders together.</p><p>Ron is also methodically cutting off his ribbons one by one, but Neville is looking at some of his speculatively, like he's studying the leaves of a new and interesting plant.</p><p>'You can see the names on them,' he says, twisting his ribbons so he can read them.</p><p>Harry glances down at his own ridiculously covered arm and twists the nearest ribbon upwards to reveal its underside. The name <em>Vivian Andrea Underwood</em> is stitched in delicate silver thread.</p><p>'Silver means you haven't responded to their suit yet, gold means you've accepted it,' George reveals as he examines the ribbons on Neville's arm curiously.</p><p>Harry begins frantically checking his ribbons to make sure he hasn't accidentally turned any of them gold - but thankfully they're all written in fine silver script, or blank to represent an anonymous suitor. When he discovers <em>Gregorian Preston Otterly</em> on one of his ribbons, his face scrunches in disgust, remembering the awful nudes he'd been sent in the post.</p><p>'We just cut them off, right?' Harry checks. When George nods, he begins slicing through his ribbons with vicious prejudice.</p><p>'Blimey, Harry!' Ron exclaims when he sees how many ribbons are covering Harry's arm. 'You could make a ruddy tent out of all of that!'</p><p>Harry doesn't respond, instead cutting more of his ribbons to bits and letting the strips of thin fabric fall into his lap and across the table.</p><p>Fred begins reading some of the names out of nosy curiosity, snorting when he finds <em>Isabella Susanna Shacklebolt</em> and showing it off to George.</p><p>Eventually, Harry realises that a large portion of the Great Hall - including half the High Table and even Harrows herself - are watching him mutilate his "precious" ribbons. Harrows looks absolutely scandalised - no doubt the Saviour publicly disrespecting her Festival is one of her worst nightmares - but Professor McGonagall is smiling in a way that suggests she is seconds away from dissolving into loud laughter.</p><p>Harry offers her a cheeky grin before he goes back to destroying the thin bands of white silk.</p><p>Interestingly, he soon notices that some of the ribbons are twice as thick as others. When he asks the twins for an explanation, Fred is quick to offer an answer: the thin ribbons are Offers of Friendship, whereas the wider ribbons are Declarations of Intent.</p><p>'It's to differentiate between your friends and your intended, because in the past when ribbons were still popular there were rows and even an honour duel about people with loads of friends that looked like they were cheating on their beloved with half the country,' Fred says mirthfully. 'So some smart sucker somewhere decided to have a way of telling who is merely a friend and who is a <em>paramour</em>.' He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.</p><p>'Oh,' Harry says, glancing back down at his mauled ribbons. He continues slicing them all up a moment later, and soon he has rid his arm of white silk.</p><p>Harry glances over at his friend and sees Hermione fiddling with the ribbons she has neatly cut in half, gazing down at the white silk in her lap with a thoughtful expression. Ron seems to be massively relieved that she has rejected all of her suitors, and is smiling rather happily to himself, his own pile of rejected ribbons falling to the floor unnoticed as he disregards them completely.</p><p>Smiling, Harry shows his left forearm to Hermione and points at it with a significant look. 'Completely bare,' he says mildly, and glances at her own arm, which is also smooth and bare.</p><p>
  <em>No scars.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The Phoenix tears worked.</em>
</p><p>Hermione's lips quirk. 'Yes,' she says with a knowing, amused look. 'Fine,' she acquiesces a moment later.</p><p>Harry grins.</p><p>The Festival Feast, at least, is delicious - there's a definite theme of white and blue, but it tastes amazing so Harry doesn't even care - and someone (presumably Flitwick) uses a Charm to fill the Hall without background classical instrumental music to create a peaceful, happy atmosphere filled with soft violins and pianos trickling through the air around them.</p><p>Once the meal has finished and they have been dismissed after another short speech from Harrows about the courting fiasco, Harry stands with the rest of the room and begins making his way towards the Gryffindor Tower. However, he, Ron and Hermione quickly separate from the crowd and surround Fred and George, smiling at them innocently.</p><p>The twins are instantly suspicious.</p><p>'What?' George asks.</p><p>'We wanted to talk to you,' Harry says sunnily. He gives them a significant look. 'In private.'</p><p>Fred and George glance at each other, grin, and turn back to Harry with mischief glimmering in their eyes.</p><p>'Lead the way, Chosen One,' Fred says, and follows the trio into an abandoned classroom.</p><p>Hermione warding the door to kingdom come raises Fred and George's eyebrows, but not by much. They understand the need for privacy, especially Harry's.</p><p>'We want to know if you're willing to help us with an experiment,' Harry says bluntly.</p><p>Fred and George perk up so visibly that Harry almost laughs. They're suddenly alive with curiosity and excitement. 'Yes,' they both chorus at once.</p><p>'You don't even know what it is yet,' Ron says, crossing his arms.</p><p>'Don't need to,' George replies quickly. 'It's got to be interesting, if you need <em>our</em> help.'</p><p>'And it can't be too bad if Little Miss Perfect over there is willing to take part,' Fred finishes.</p><p>Hermione looks somewhat annoyed by that, but doesn't disagree - mostly because the twins have a point.</p><p>Although Hermione <em>did</em> help Harry break into Gringotts, so... that point may be less valid than it used to be.</p><p>'We have a... way of healing people, but we need to test it to make sure it works,' Harry says, watching Fred and George carefully.</p><p>After much debating between the three of them, Harry, Ron and Hermione had eventually agreed that they needed to test the tears on someone else to make sure there were no side effects before they gave them to Snape. Hermione had wanted to ask Neville, because of the scars he still had from fighting the Carrows and running the Resistance, but she had admitted that it would be cruel to offer something that might help his parents only for it to fail.</p><p>Fred and George, on the other hand, are the perfect candidates. They already have years of experience with experiments, so they know not to get their hopes up until they see the results. They won't be devastated if this doesn't work out, and they have nothing to lose if the tears fail.</p><p>And they both know how to keep a secret.</p><p>'If you were hoping to use my ear, it's already healed,' George says, looking intrigued.</p><p>'Yeah, but you have other scars, don't you?' Ron says. 'I <em>know</em> you both have partially healed burns from the time you were inventing the fireworks.'</p><p>Fred and George glance at each other and then turn back with wide smiles. 'Well, let's see it then,' Fred says eagerly.</p><p>Harry relaxes slightly, relieved that the twins have agreed so easily and with no questions asked. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the half empty vial of sparkling tears. Immediately, twin gazes lock onto it.</p><p>'Very pretty,' Fred says approvingly.</p><p>'Very <em>mysterious</em>,' George adds. 'I don't suppose you want to share your supplier?'</p><p>Harry smiles and shakes his head ruefully. 'Not yet,' he says.</p><p>'Dangling the possibility of future intel in front of us like a golden snitch,' Fred says mournfully, but his eyes are dancing.</p><p>'Our boy's all grown up and manipulative,' George agrees proudly.</p><p>Harry rolls his eyes.</p><p>'There's something else,' Hermione interjects from where she's standing by the door with her arms crossed. 'You might not like this bit.'</p><p>'Oh, yeah,' Ron says uncomfortably.</p><p>Harry winces. He'd forgotten to mention the slicing.</p><p>The twins, of course, just look even more intrigued by their discomfort. 'Go on,' George says dryly. Fred's bright eyes glance between them, curious.</p><p>Harry sighs and runs a hand through his hair. 'The... potion works better if the wounds are fresh,' he admits. 'It can heal old scars, but it works much better if a cut is made on top of the scars and then the te-potion is dropped onto the wound.' Harry cringes. 'You don't have to if you don't want to,' he adds hurriedly.</p><p>Fred and George raise their eyebrows.</p><p>'Kinky,' Fred says lightly.</p><p>George rolls his eyes and elbows Fred. 'You do realise we've done a lot worse than give ourselves some paper cuts?' he asks sarcastically. 'How do you think we refined the Nosebleed Nougats?'</p><p>'I don't want to know,' Ron says flatly.</p><p>'Lots of blood, little brother,' Fred says cheerfully. 'And lots more Blood Replenishing Potions.'</p><p>'So one of you is willing to make a light cut on your skin?' Hermione asks a touch stiffly. She looks uncomfortable even asking.</p><p>'My, how you've changed, Miss Granger,' Fred says with faux-shock. 'I remember so clearly the days when you were completely against student volunteers for experimentation-'</p><p>'This is different,' Hermione says, and she looks somewhere between guilty and defiant.</p><p>'Doesn't look like it,' Fred says lightly, even as he rolls up his sleeves to expose his forearms, both of which are moderately scarred. George does the same, and has his own collection of cuts, burns and marks.</p><p>'Shall I do the honour, Freddie?' George asks mildly, even as he pulls out his wand and examines his arms, considering which scar to reopen.</p><p>'Georgie, dear, pick the smallest one,' Fred replies blandly. He grabs George's right wrist and holds it up, pointing to a small, thin scar that runs across the side of George's palm. 'That one.'</p><p>'Of course, darling,' George agrees calmly. 'That one and the burn on my left arm.'</p><p>Fred glares at him.</p><p>'No point picking a paper cut when they need to test a healing potion,' George says blithely.</p><p>'Then they can use one of <em>my</em> burns,' Fred says stoutly.</p><p>George gives him a fond, if mildly exasperated, look. 'I'll numb my arm,' he says evenly.</p><p>Fred stares at him for a moment and then looks away. 'Your potion better work,' he tells Harry bluntly.</p><p>George rolls his eyes. 'If it doesn't, you know ten spells that will,' he argues calmly. 'It's a cut, Freddie, not my whole arm.'</p><p>Fred looks slightly put out but stops arguing.</p><p>At his insistence, Fred is tested first. Harry drops a couple of Phoenix tears onto an old, bumpy scar just beneath his wrist that fades partially once the tears have soaked into the skin and loses several shades of its unnatural brown-pink discolouration, but doesn't disappear entirely. Fred peers at his wrist and then raises his eyes to Harry.</p><p>'Well, it half-worked,' he remarks blandly.</p><p>'It looks better than before,' George says, leaning in for a closer look.</p><p>'Any side effects?' Hermione asks nervously.</p><p>'Well, I'm not dead,' Fred says.</p><p>George rolls his eyes. 'That's a no,' he tells them dryly.</p><p>Once Fred has numbed George's arm and tested that it's numb, George creates a shallow, thin cut down the centre of a circular burn on his left forearm. 'Is that enough?' he asks Harry calmly, ignoring the blood welling up slowly and trickling down his skin.</p><p>'It should be,' Harry says uncertainly, and quickly drops several Phoenix tears along the bleeding wound.</p><p>The second result is much better - much to Fred's relief. George's cut heals almost instantly, skin knitting back together with no sign that it was ever torn open. The scarring from the burn doesn't disappear completely, as there is still a faint circular mark around its border, but around where the cut was created the scarring has disappeared completely.</p><p>'Impressive,' George praises, poking at his newly healed skin.</p><p>'No side effects?' Hermione checks.</p><p>'None,' George confirms cheerily.</p><p>'We need you to check that it's still healed for the next day or two,' Ron tells them seriously, but he looks excited.</p><p>'Just to make sure it doesn't revert or cause any unexpected reactions or side effects,' Hermione tags on.</p><p>'No problem,' George says easily.</p><p>'How did you develop this?' Fred asks curiously, running a finger over George's mostly healed skin.</p><p>Harry glances at Ron and Hermione.</p><p>'Ah, trade secret,' George says knowingly, looking amused.</p><p>'Alright then,' Fred says lightly. 'Be mysterious.'</p><p>'We're using this as blackmail material from now on,' George says serenely.</p><p>Ron splutters with indignation. 'Oi! You can't do that! That's not fair!'</p><p>'Life's not fair,' Fred replies unrepentantly.</p><p>'Try and I will write to your mother about all the scars I just saw on your arms,' Hermione says sweetly. 'And the suitor that tried to court George.' She tilts her head innocently. 'Are those wedding bells I hear in the distance?' She smiles. 'Congratulations, George!'</p><p>George looks horrified. Fred looks reluctantly impressed.</p><p>'Mum would have a canary,' Ron says with faint horror.</p><p>Harry fights down a wide grin. Mrs Weasley on a warpath is not something he wants to be on the receiving end of. He can only imagine the chaos if she thought she had a chance of seeing one of the twins settle down and marry. She'd be over the moon.</p><p>And then somewhere between absolutely murderous and completely devastated when George revealed he'd turned the suitor down.</p><p>'We shall not betray your confidence, O Feared One,' George says solemnly. Harry suspects they never planned to, but watching Hermione threaten them into silence is amusing.</p><p>'Secret? What secret? I know of no such thing,' Fred adds.</p><p>Hermione smiles. Ron looks totally lovestruck.</p><p>• • • • • •</p><p>Thursday morning is... horrendous.</p><p>Harry seriously contemplates skipping breakfast altogether, but Hermione covers him in Disillusionment Charms and then drags him out of the Tower and down to the Great Hall, talking cheerfully about Transfiguration all the while.</p><p>'We really need to practice some more of our nonverbal self-Transfiguration,' she says lightly, even as she reaches the Entrance Hall and cancels the Charms on Harry.</p><p>'Hermione!' Harry protests. 'Why did you cancel them!?'</p><p>'You can't hide under them whilst having breakfast, Harry,' Hermione huffs. 'Plus, the Charms won't work as well in such a crowded environment anyway. Come on.'</p><p>She strides into the Great Hall with her head held high.</p><p>Harry and Ron follow reluctantly a moment later, glancing at each other in dread.</p><p>The moment Harry steps into the Hall, hundreds of eyes swivel around to stare at him.</p><p>'That's just bloody creepy,' Ron mutters under his breath, grabbing Harry by the elbow and towing him towards Gryffindor table, where Neville, Hermione and the twins are waiting for them.</p><p>They eat with underlying tension hanging over them all. Hermione ignores it with great determination, talking cheerfully about Herbology with Neville and forcefully including Harry and Ron in the conversation. The twins seem content to simply listen and occasionally throw in a joke or two, but their eyes frequently roam over the Hall, watching.</p><p>When the post owls arrive, madness descends.</p><p>Hundreds of owls - literal <em>hundreds</em> - swoop into the Great Hall through the open windows, all with letters clutched in their beaks or tied around their ankles. Harry lets out a small noise of horror as he realises a <em>cloud</em> of owls is approaching him like a feathery thunderstorm.</p><p>'Run,' Ron advises him.</p><p>For a second Harry is seriously considering it - he still remembers all the scratches he'd gotten last time - but before he can leap up from the bench and sprint out of the room, the twins simultaneously raise their wands and begin chanting a spell Harry doesn't recognise. Their words are so fast he can barely follow them, but a few moments later the spell comes into effect and a purple shield springs up around Harry, encompassing him in a translucent dome.</p><p>He gapes at the shield, watching as a tornado of owls circles around him but can't penetrate the magical barrier. When some of the birds begin trying to pester Hermione, Ron and Neville, the twins wave their wands and the shield expands, protecting them as well.</p><p>'What is that spell?' Hermione asks, fascinated. She reaches out to touch the glimmering purple shield and her fingers pass straight through it.</p><p>'We modified a mail ward,' George explains calmly. 'The owls know where you are but can't get through.'</p><p>'Figured you might need something to help after the last owl swarm,' Fred adds nonchalantly.</p><p>Harry's mouth falls open slightly. '<em>Thank you</em>,' he says sincerely.</p><p>The twins shrug. 'Least we could do, mate,' George says, dismissing the gratitude.</p><p>Professor McGonagall appears like a hissing cat, forcing the owls to drop their mail through the twins' ward and return to their owners, McGonagall glaring at them all the while. Soon, Harry has a small mountain of parchment in his lap and ribbons rapidly appearing out of thin air to tie themselves around his left wrist.</p><p>Harry is not impressed.</p><p>In the beginning Harry burned, shredded and Vanished most of his letters, but the twins have been begging him to keep them so that they can read them aloud as entertainment in the Gryffindor Common Room and their dorm, so Harry sighs and Sticks all of the letters together in one big bundle before Shrinking it and stuffing it into his bag.</p><p>Discovering that the Daily Prophet has run a front page article about Harry publicly rejecting the Minister's niece is a wonderful little addition to his already-fantastic morning.</p><p>And he's got double DADA first period.</p><p>Harry walks to class with a face like a screaming Mandrake.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A/N: the next chapter is one of my favourites!</p><p>On a slightly more ridiculous note: you don't even want to know how many times I've typed "Barry" instead of Harry. It's a problem.</p><p>Barry Botter and the Bilosopher's Bone.</p><p>Seems legit.</p>
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<a name="section0012"><h2>12. The Age of Adulthood</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A/N: We get into some deep ass introspective, philosophy type shizzle in this chapter and I'm interested to hear what you think! Let me know your thoughts on morality and redemption!</p><p>This chapter is shorter but it felt complete like this, and I didn't want to pad it with pointless filler. Hope you enjoy!</p><p><b>This chapter underwent a small edit on 22.08.20.</b> Most of the changes can be found after the paragraph beginning "Harry rubs his hands down his face. His head hurts."</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>By Thursday evening word has spread through the castle that Snape is back teaching classes and returned to normal health. Harry is relieved - more than he expected, which is a little bizarre - but the release of the stress from the past few days is unfortunately short-lived.</p><p>Harry is passing through the Common Room as quickly as possible, trying to avoid the students who keep leaping out of nowhere to proposition him, when he hears it -</p><p>'<em>Snape deserved it</em>.'</p><p>The words are bitter and biting; when Harry's head snaps around, his eyes roam across a room full of students, any of whom could have said it. Harry has no way to tell, and he doubts anyone will be willing to own up to their declaration.</p><p>Glancing around once more, eyes raking suspiciously across his fellow Gryffindors, Harry retreats to his dorm room and settles himself on his bed, staring up at the ceiling.</p><p>It's shocking, to hear that there are students who loathe Snape, even after the revelation that he'd been fighting for them all along. But the more Harry thinks about it, the more he realises that it really shouldn't have surprised him. Snape had been Headmaster last year, when the Carrows were running around torturing students and many feared for their lives. Of course students still resent Snape for his inaction; even if they intellectually understand the importance of having a spy on the inside, that doesn't mean that they won't still feel resentment or betrayal.</p><p>Harry sighs and glances over at Neville's empty bed. How would Neville feel, if he knew that Harry was planning to heal Snape? Would he feel betrayed? Forgotten? Would he think that everyone has dismissed the injuries he'd suffered last year at the hands of the Carrows? Does he still blame Snape for what happened?</p><p>And what about before? Even if Snape had never been a Death Eater, he'd never have been the epitome of a good man. He'd been Neville's Boggart for four years, for pity's sake. Would Neville feel angry if he knew that Harry is starting to forgive a lot of what Snape did during their six years of schooling? Does Neville still carry scars from that time? Would he resent Harry for offering the Phoenix tears to Snape first, and not Neville's parents? Or even Neville himself? Neville, who had followed Harry into battle more than once without any guarantees, and fought by his side until the very end?</p><p>Harry rubs a hand over his eyes in frustration. He keeps trying to make the situation simple - first he hates Snape, then he forgives him, then he respects and even <em>admires</em> him and worries about him... but it's becoming increasingly clear that there is no simple box into which Severus Snape can be stuffed. He seems to be neither a good man nor a bad one; he's a mix of both or neither, and Harry can't tell which.</p><p>Snape is the definition of morally grey. His past is a patchwork of black and white, good and bad, laudable and irredeemable. So which is he? Can he truly be labelled accurately at all?</p><p>Dumbledore hadn't been the man Harry had thought he was. Neither had Sirius, or his father, or even Lupin. Yet Harry had loved all of them and still does - despite their flaws, their mistakes, their dark pasts and skeleton secrets.</p><p>Is Harry simply too naïve, too forgiving? Is this another Pettigrew waiting to stab him in the back?</p><p>Or does everyone deserve the chance to prove themselves as more than their pasts, their mistakes, their worst moments? Is a person defined by the worst thing they've done? What about the best? Are they both, neither; do they cancel each other out or are they simply incomparable?</p><p>At what point is a person past the point of redemption? When does society as a whole collectively decide that no amount of remorse can undo a wrongful deed?</p><p>Harry doesn't know. He claps his hands over his eyes and groans.</p><p>He needs to go talk to Hermione again. She'll know what to think.</p><p>• • • • • •</p><p>'Well, I think what you need to remember is that it's not just what someone has done in the past that's important,' Hermione says seriously, resting her hands on top of a small stack of books piled in her lap. She's sitting cross-legged in a large armchair beside the lone bookshelf in the Common Room, bundled up in a soft sweater and leggings, hair in a messy bun. The table in front of her is covered in inked parchment.</p><p>'What do you mean?'</p><p>'Whether or not they regret their actions is just as significant,' Hermione explains. 'That's why you can forgive Professor Dumbledore for having incorrect, prejudicial and frankly abhorrent opinions during his late adolescence, but you'd never forgive Grindelwald. Professor Dumbledore learned better and regretted his previous beliefs, whereas Grindelwald never did.</p><p>'It's the same reason you've forgiven Professor Lupin and Sirius and your father. What they did was horrible and wrong, but they didn't stay that way forever. They grew up and became better men. And... well, Professor Lupin seemed sorry for what he did to Professor Snape, at least. Presumably your father regretted it too, if your mother talked some sense into him, and Sirius...' Hermione pauses. 'Well, Azkaban took its toll on him, so perhaps it's not fair to judge him when he was clearly still suffering...' she says diplomatically. Harry wonders if she's hesitant to criticise Harry's family in front of him. It's considerate of her, but right now he needs the truth more than comfort.</p><p>'I don't think Sirius ever properly regretted it, at least not where Snape was concerned,' Harry admits, sighing heavily. 'And I loved him anyway.'</p><p>He wonders what that says about him.</p><p>'We don't know what Professor Snape was like as a teenager,' Hermione reminds him, trying her best to play the neutral side whilst also reassuring him. 'For all we know, they were both perfectly justified in hating each other. There was a war going on, after all, and they were on different sides.'</p><p>Harry wants to groan again. He doesn't know what to think.</p><p>'We have to remember that teenagers' opinions are heavily influenced by their peers, the media and those they regard as their superiors and leaders,' Hermione adds, leaning forwards a little. 'It's horrifyingly easy to brainwash young people - and even older people - into believing something utterly reprehensible. Minds are terrifyingly malleable.'</p><p>'We never bought into all the pureblood purity crap,' Harry argues.</p><p>'Of course we didn't,' Hermione replies simply, 'because we respected Professor Dumbledore and Hagrid and Mr and Mrs Weasley, and lots of other adults who all told us repeatedly that it was wrong, Voldemort was wrong and that Gryffindors fought on the Light side.'</p><p>'But...' Harry frowns. 'You should be able to tell right from wrong. It's not exactly difficult. Murder is wrong, discrimination is wrong, genocide is wrong.'</p><p>Hermione smiles slightly. 'Morality is rather subjective,' she says evenly. 'You say murder is wrong - yet you have never protested the killing of animals, even magical creatures. Why is that any different?'</p><p>Harry blinks at her.</p><p>'Because you believe that the lives of animals have inherently less value than the lives of humans,' Hermione says after a moment of silence. 'I'm not saying you're wrong, Harry; I'm just pointing out that you have a sliding scale of morality, as we all do.'</p><p>'So... what? You think Voldemort was <em>right</em> to kill Muggles!?' Harry says disbelievingly.</p><p>'No, of course not!' Hermione retorts sharply. 'I'm saying that he convinced his followers that the lives of Muggles were equivalent to the lives of animals. Once you believe that, it's easy to see how they justified murdering hundreds of Muggles to themselves; they saw it as no different than slaughtering pigs.'</p><p>Harry closes his eyes and rubs his forehead. He can feel a headache building. 'But Muggles aren't pigs. That's different.'</p><p>'You and I believe that,' Hermione replies flatly. 'But if we'd been raised as extremely pacifistic vegans with strong beliefs about the inherent value of life in all its forms, we'd consider the slaughter of pigs equivalent to the slaughter of Muggles.'</p><p>Harry doesn't know what to think of that.</p><p>'But the opposite also holds true,' Hermione continues. 'If we'd been raised by Walburga Black in an extremely Dark and morally corrupt household, we'd likely believe that the murder of Muggles is as inconsequential as stepping on some beetles.'</p><p>Harry stares at her. 'What are you trying to say?' he asks slowly.</p><p>'I'm saying that the morality you are raised with defines how you perceive the world,' Hermione says calmly, leaning forwards even more in her effort to try to convince him of her point. 'To ignore the massive effects that your upbringing and those around you have on you as you grow up is ridiculous. Sirius and Professor Snape and even you were all shaped by the world that you grew up in.</p><p>'I learned to value academia because my parents were both very intelligent and goal-oriented people, and they encouraged me to read from a very early age and placed great importance upon education and academic success. You learned to value survival, loyalty and love because you spent most of your early life struggling on your own without them. Ron values independence and personal success because he grew up in the shadows of his brothers and without much to his family name. He learned to value money because for most of his life he didn't have any. I on the other hand grew up in a middle class family and never went without, so I never truly appreciated the importance of money until we were on the run and eating out of tins with nothing but our wands and the contents of my handbag.'</p><p>Hermione smiles self-deprecatingly.</p><p>'There's a reason Hitler altered the education system in Germany when he came to power, created a warped Boy Scouts for adolescents, muzzled the media and even started his own religion. He knew that if he could influence the minds of the masses and brainwash them into believing his supremacist rhetoric, he wouldn't have to fear rebellion in his ranks because he'd have his own army full of willing Nazis.</p><p>'It's easy to think that we'd never have been swayed by that. But at twelve, would we really have known any better? We all bought into the idea that Slytherins are evil.' Harry feels a rush of horrified guilt when he realises that Hermione is completely right. 'And it's so easy to sway someone's opinion about something when they trust you to tell them the truth.' Hermione's lips quirk. 'Isn't that what I'm doing to you right now?'</p><p>Harry stares at her in surprise. Because... she's right. Of course she is, she's always right... and she's changing Harry's opinion right this very second, with nothing but her words.</p><p>'Yeah, but... what you're saying makes sense. You're <em>right</em>,' Harry argues, but he knows it's weak.</p><p>Hermione huffs. 'Everyone always thinks they're right,' she retorts dismissively. 'Even Voldemort probably thought he was completely in the right.'</p><p>That's a horrifying idea, that Voldemort could have genuinely believed that Muggle genocide was justified.</p><p>'I'm not saying that we should just forgive every Death Eater for having horrible opinions,' Hermione says after a moment of silence. 'I'm saying that children's beliefs are the product of those around them, and the things that they experience growing up. We can't really blame them for believing what they've always been told. It's only as an adult, when we have developed critical thinking skills and are responsible for <em>acting</em> on our opinions that blame can be assigned.' She pauses.</p><p>'The <em>problem</em> is that there's no clear consensus on when exactly children grow up enough to become independent of their upbringing and can be held fully accountable for their actions and beliefs. Do we suddenly become knowledgeable, mature critical thinkers the second we turn seventeen? Sixteen? Eighteen? When are we old enough to "know better"?</p><p>'Is it foolish to assume that the age is the same for everyone? What about the belief that girls mature faster than boys? Or the Muggles' belief that our brains don't stop fully growing and developing until we're twenty five?</p><p>'What does it mean that there doesn't seem to be any age when we are totally resistant to propaganda and brainwashing? Cults the world over have people from all age categories, and they are all equally susceptible. Are some people simply more gullible than others? Or more vulnerable? Does that change their culpability if they commit a crime fully believing that they are in the right?'</p><p>Hermione smiles wryly at Harry's overwhelmed look of disbelief. 'There is no answer,' she says simply. 'It's entirely subjective, and different societies throughout history have had different policies and opinions on the age of adulthood, and when people should be held responsible for things they do based on their beliefs. It's easy to say that someone at fourteen should be old enough to know that hurting a Muggleborn or a Jew is wrong. But what if they hurt a Death Eater or a Nazi? Is it justified then? Do we have the right to hurt someone just because they have differing political opinions or belief systems?'</p><p>'No,' Harry says slowly. 'But Death Eaters hurt people. They're bad. Muggleborns aren't the same; they never hurt anyone.'</p><p>'I'm sure there are Muggleborns who have hurt people,' Hermione disagrees calmly. 'But you're right, the two groups don't seem to be comparable. But what about someone who has all the beliefs of a Death Eater, but hasn't acted on them? Is it wrong to have those beliefs, or only to act on them? Does what stops them from acting on them matter? If you know that they only refrain because they fear the law, is that any different than refraining because of internal morality?'</p><p>'Yes,' Harry says, frowning. 'You shouldn't do it because it's wrong, not because you fear the personal consequences.'</p><p>Hermione shrugs. 'There are many people out there who only follow the morality of society because they fear the consequences. It's a form of external societal pressure, and has a biological and psychological basis. All you have to do is watch people when they're free to act anonymously and don't have to worry about getting caught or shamed to realise that a lot of their morality suddenly falls away.'</p><p>She taps her fingers against her books, tilting her head slightly in consideration.</p><p>'It's not necessarily a bad thing. It's an evolutionary tactic to promote the survival of the group. If members can be pressured by their peers into acting in the best interests of the group rather than themselves, the group is more likely to succeed.'</p><p>Harry feels like his brain is melting.</p><p>'So there are lots of people out there who don't murder and steal and commit all sorts of horrible crimes simply because they don't want to go to prison?' Harry asks disbelievingly.</p><p>'Yes,' Hermione replies evenly. 'Just look at what you did the moment you got your Cloak. The second you could break the rules without consequences, you ignored them completely.'</p><p>Harry is brought up short. 'But... sneaking out late doesn't really matter. No one gets hurt by that.'</p><p>'That's a slippery slope,' Hermione replies. 'Maybe stealing some galleons from a rich wizard doesn't really matter either. It's not like he'll get hurt, and he doesn't <em>need</em> the money...'</p><p>Harry crosses his arms and leans back in his armchair, frowning slightly.</p><p>'But that's not the point,' Hermione says, straightening up. 'The point is that some people believe that they have the right to hurt someone else if they have a deeply conflicting belief or way of life. It goes both ways. Death Eaters think they can hurt Muggleborns... but Muggleborns also think they can hurt Death Eaters.</p><p>'So what you need to decide is: do you believe that you have the right to hurt someone with a fundamentally different morality and belief system than you? Because if you do, then what the Marauders did to Professor Snape was completely justifiable. He was a Dark wizard, after all, and a proto-Death Eater that believed in blood supremacy and who knows what else. Why shouldn't they bully him? After all, he wanted to kill Muggles!'</p><p>Harry rubs his hands down his face. His head hurts. 'No, I don't think that.'</p><p>'Good,' Hermione says firmly. 'Neither do I. But what you need to understand is that far too many people in this world do. And that's probably why Sirius and your father saw nothing wrong with tormenting Professor Snape. In their minds, they were holding him accountable for what they saw as repulsive, evil beliefs. To them, the punishment fit the "crime".</p><p>'Of course, that wasn't <em>why</em> they were bullying him, but it's probably how they justified it to themselves. No one wants to admit that they pick on someone simply because they're "weird" or "different" or a "loner", but if they can tell themselves that there's a good reason behind it... people will do horrible things once they've quieted their conscience. Once someone is "the enemy", you can do whatever you want to them, because they're "bad" and you're "good". Never mind that we are first and foremost all <em>human</em>.</p><p>'Sorting the world into groups and labels and parts of our identities or ideologies is one of the most destructive things we can do,' Hermione says quietly. 'And that goes for everyone, not just Death Eaters and bullies. It wipes away individuality and rolls out the red carpet for prejudice and distrust, and once you have enough of that...'</p><p>Hermione runs her finger down the cover of one of her books, and Harry thinks about a little girl crying in the toilets because she was too smart and too bossy and no one wanted to have to be around <em>that.</em></p><p>They sit in silence for several minutes.</p><p>'What do you think of Snape?' Harry asks eventually. He doesn't know what to believe anymore.</p><p>'I think that people should be judged by their actions, not their beliefs,' Hermione says immediately. 'And that children shouldn't be punished for adopting the same mentality as their parents, peers and influential figures in their lives. Education will achieve much more than condemnation.' She sighs.</p><p>'In my opinion, Professor Snape has said and done things both as a minor and an adult that are wrong. I'm not going to try to justify them.' She taps against her books thoughtfully. 'But I don't blame him for anything he did as a child or teenager. He grew up in Slytherin at a time when blood supremacy was at an all time high, and discrimination against Slytherins was probably rampant, and vice versa.</p><p>'He was a vulnerable student with a terrible home-life, a distinct lack of positive role models during his most formative years and what was probably a mountain of emotional and self-esteem issues. The older students and Voldemort would have noticed that, and manipulated him. So I don't blame him for not knowing any better at twelve years old not to listen to his Housemates.'</p><p>Hermione pauses again, nibbling lightly on her lip as she thinks. 'I do blame him for what he did as an adult,' she says eventually. 'I won't condemn him for becoming a Death Eater, because he was probably brainwashed and he switched sides once he realised what he'd done, just like Regulus Black did, which redeems him in my eyes. I don't know what he did whilst he was a loyal Death Eater, and I won't condemn him based on guesses and assumptions. That's inherently unfair.</p><p>'But.' Hermione huffs. 'I cannot excuse how he treated students under his care during our six years here. He bullied you and Neville, and he unfairly discriminated against Gryffindors and failed to step in when Slytherins bullied other students. He was an adult and he should have known better than to take his emotional issues out on innocent children.' She stops, sighing heavily.</p><p>'Professor Dumbledore should never have guilted Professor Snape into a teaching position he didn't want as a way to redeem his sins, and the Headmaster as well as the other staff have to be held partially accountable. They should have stepped in and reprimanded Professor Snape, or even better, pulled him from the job entirely and gotten him the intensive therapy that he so clearly needed!'</p><p>Hermione takes a breath to centre herself and then frowns. 'I don't know what happened to him as a child, but it was clearly extremely damaging. Professor Dumbledore should never have let a man with so many unresolved issues teach, especially when he clearly never learned healthy coping mechanisms... which isn't surprising, given that his father was an alcoholic. Children of addicts usually have issues surrounding control, addiction and stress management, and abused children...'</p><p>Hermione trails off, frowning at the middle distance.</p><p>'Would you forgive him?' Harry asks uncertainly after a moment of silence.</p><p>Hermione turns her attention back to Harry, pulled from her thoughts. 'That depends entirely on how he acts now,' she says firmly and without any hesitation or deliberation. 'He seems to have undergone a significant shift in personality, morality and personal responsibility and accountability. Whatever issues he had with you, they seem to have finally been laid to rest.</p><p>'Perhaps the second war, in a twisted way, was good for him. It allowed him to fight for the right side this time around, and know that he was doing good, and he got indisputable proof that you are not your father. And perhaps the cruelty he witnessed during his year as Headmaster forced him to acknowledge that children are children, no matter their House, and that none of them deserve to suffer.'</p><p>Hermione waves a hand. 'But that's all speculation, and I don't know for certain what he believes. All I can judge him on is how he acts. And what I know for a fact is this: ever since the war ended, he has treated all of his students fairly, if a little brusquely, and he has made marked improvements in his teaching style. He seems to be making a genuine effort to improve. I also know that he healed George's ear despite no expectation or pressure for him to do so. That's important - that he chose to do it himself, I mean. He also nearly died to fight against the beliefs he once held, and he doesn't hold those prejudiced beliefs anymore.'</p><p>Hermione studies Harry's face for a moment. 'In the end, what it comes down to is our individual capacity for forgiveness,' she says. 'How far can someone go before we consider them irredeemable? The answer is different for all of us. If someone shows honest remorse, and works to correct their mistakes as Professor Snape has done, then I am of the opinion that they should be given a chance at redemption. But they have to earn it.'</p><p>Harry nods in agreement.</p><p>'But that's just my opinion,' Hermione says, watching Harry closely. 'If you don't want to forgive Professor Snape, and you think that he's done too many things for you to ever respect him, then that's fine too.'</p><p>'I... I don't know,' Harry admits.</p><p>'That's okay too,' Hermione says reassuringly. 'Emotions are complicated and sometimes it can take a while to work through how you feel or lay them to rest. That's normal and understandable. But...' She hesitates, scrutinising his expression.</p><p>'Your opinions and feelings are your own, Harry,' she says gently. 'Other people shouldn't try to influence them with their own thoughts. They don't have the right to interfere or judge you for that. You don't owe anyone forgiveness, but you don't owe anyone else a grudge, either. Whether you decide to forgive Professor Snape or not is completely up to you.'</p><p>Harry wonders if his forehead is made out of glass, and that's how Hermione reads his thoughts like they're written right in front of her.</p><p>'A lot of people still hate Snape,' he says quietly.</p><p>'And they have every right to feel hurt and upset by the things that he's done,' Hermione says calmly. 'Humans are emotional creatures. We're not always logical about things, and that's alright. If someone can't forget about how Professor Snape treated them during their time as his student, they shouldn't be expected or forced to. Their pain is genuine and understandable, and we shouldn't dismiss or ignore that. They're hurting, and we should try to help them rather than talk down to them or lecture them with condescending opinions about morality or forgiveness. Their feelings are their own, and as long as they don't try to hurt anyone or dictate others' opinions, we should respect that.'</p><p>Harry thinks about Neville, and wonders what he'd say to all of this.</p><p>But this time, Harry also wonders what <em>he’d</em> say, if no one else could hear him.</p><p>• • • • • •</p><p>Sleep comes slowly that night. Harry's mind races with all of the words that had poured from Hermione's mouth, and he wonders whether he can truly forgive Snape for everything he has done. Where is the line in the sand, that marks something as unforgivable? And has Snape crossed it?</p><p>...If a man can become a monster, is it possible for a monster to become a man?</p><p>• • • • • •</p><p>On Monday morning, Harry walks into Potions class and his eyes lock onto Snape standing tall and formidable behind his desk. Without his permission, Harry's body relaxes slightly in relief.</p><p>The lesson continues as normal, and Snape gives Ron five points when he correctly answers a question about Flobberworm mucus.</p><p>Harry can't stop himself from smiling slightly, and Hermione smiles gently back at him. Ron looks dazed, but he's grinning when they leave.</p><p>And Harry knows then that he doesn't have to worry about whether he can forgive Snape; the answer is blindingly obvious.</p><p>He already has.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A/N: just to be clear, I'm not trying to make this fic political (I wrote this before CHAZ happened, although it’s ironic how well it fits what this chapter describes). I just like to explore moral dilemmas and philosophical questions with no obvious answers. The conversation between Harry and Hermione is basically the two sides of my brain having an argument, because even I don't know the answers.</p><p>You are, of course, 100% allowed to disagree with me on everything discussed in this chapter. I have no problem with that. But, if you have a differing opinion - either with myself or someone else in the comments - then <b>please keep it respectful.</b></p><p> </p><p>I'm also not a fan of fics that wave away Snape's history like it never happened and pretend he was a saint all along. No. He did some bad shit. That's undeniable. The real question is whether he can be forgiven for what he has done.</p><p>And I think that's a very interesting question.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>P.S. Apologies for this coming out a couple days late. A family member collapsed and died suddenly and unexpectedly. I bring this up because no one got the chance to say goodbye or make amends; her twin sister didn’t even get to tell her she loved her one last time. She was just gone and that was it. </p><p>So please. <b>This is your reminder that you only get one life, and it might not be as long as you assume it will be.</b> If you have something you want to do, GO DO IT. If you have someone you’ve fallen out with but it was stupid and you want to make up, GO MAKE UP. Make sure the people in your life know you love them. Do things for them. Treat them right.</p><p>Because we’re not here forever.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Potio Runica</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A/N: This was supposed to be an early update... but then I had to go back and edit bits of the last chapter because the lovely <b>@quietescapist</b> and <b>@BlackRyuji</b> pointed out that I'd unintentionally implied that the only reason the Marauders bullied Snape was because he supported the Death Eater propaganda BS, which wasn't what I'd meant haha.</p><p><b>Just to be clear: the last chapter was supposed to be an exploration of how people justify wrong acts to themselves</b> (among other things); <b>I was trying to explore how the Marauders convinced themselves they were right for bullying Snape, not <i>why</i> they bullied him.</b> Unfortunately I seem to have been too vague or blurred the line a little. <b>I've gone back and added a bit more to the last chapter in the hopes of making things clearer. You don't need to reread, it won't affect the plot.</b> This is just one of those times where I meant to show one thing and readers interpreted a different thing! It happens haha. But thank you to the people who pointed it out nicely and made me realise how the chapter could be read. Hopefully it is clearer now! &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>'Potter,' Snape says when Harry appears at exactly six o'clock that evening for tutoring.</p><p>'Sir,' Harry responds hesitantly.</p><p>'You completed the carvings for another two desks,' Snape says emotionlessly, completely hiding whatever feelings he has on the matter. Harry watches him warily.</p><p>'Um... yes?'</p><p>'When?' Snape demands.</p><p>'Uh, last Monday?' Harry answers uncertainly. He glances at the three frontmost desks in the classroom, all of which can seat two people each and now have symbols carved around the edges, carefully linked together.</p><p>Snape stares at him. 'I was unavailable to tutor you last week,' he says tonelessly, referencing his stay in the hospital wing as if it had simply been a business trip to fetch some rare potions ingredients.</p><p>'Er... yes?' Harry's not sure what the problem is; he didn't even realise there <em>was</em> a problem.</p><p>'You completed the task required of you for tutoring twofold despite knowing that I would be unable to uphold my own half of the deal,' Snape states. 'Why?' He scrutinises Harry. 'Did you expect to be exempt from carving this evening and next week? Were you planning to demand extra tutoring time in return?'</p><p>'What?' Harry asks blankly. 'No!'</p><p>Snape stares at him again, eyes narrowed slightly.</p><p>Harry almost huffs out an irritated sigh, but he refrains - barely. 'Of course I kept my side of our agreement,' he says flatly. 'It wasn't your fault you weren't here, and you need these symbols to teach classes properly. What was I supposed to do - skip a week? And delay your classes even more?'</p><p>Snape doesn't respond to that.</p><p>Now it's Harry's turn to stare at him disbelievingly. 'I'm not a git!' he protests earnestly, momentarily forgetting who exactly he's addressing. 'I'm not going to blame you for something that isn't your fault! Plus, it wasn't even a big deal. I just came here at the same time, carved the desks and then left.'</p><p>'I see,' Snape says at last.</p><p>They stare at each other for a moment, the silence quickly becoming tense and awkward. Harry glances around for the carving tools and doesn't see them anywhere on Snape's desk.</p><p>'If, er, you have the tools...' Harry says, trailing off and glancing back up to meet Snape's impenetrable black gaze.</p><p>Silently, Snape opens a drawer in his desk and holds out the tools. Grateful, Harry immediately takes them and rushes off to complete his task, away from staring eyes.</p><p>Snape's gaze seems to follow him to the next desk he chooses to carve.</p><p>After fifty minutes of carving in silence, Harry glances up from his completed desk - he's getting faster, and he's ridiculously proud of himself - to see Snape massaging a thin paste into his shaking hands. Beside him sits a large stack of parchment - homework essays, Harry assumes. When Snape realises Harry is watching him, he immediately stops rubbing on the cream and snaps the lid back onto the tub, shoving it into his pocket and out of sight a moment later.</p><p>Harry scrambles for something to say that will alleviate the awkward tension between them. 'Um... did you ever name this?'</p><p>Snape stares at him as if he has just declared his intention to strip naked and live the rest of his life as a free nudist in the Forbidden Forest amongst the centaur colony. 'What?'</p><p>'Did you ever give a name to the language you invented?' Harry asks curiously. 'You know, the runes?' He points at the desk he's just finished engraving.</p><p>Snape pauses. 'No,' he admits after a moment. 'I simply refer to them as symbols.'</p><p>Harry considers that. He wants to say, <em>You should,</em> but he somehow doubts that Snape will appreciate Harry Potter of all people telling him what he should do.</p><p>'When I was reading <em>Wizarding Writing Systems: Uses and Development</em>, it mentioned languages that use symbols like runes or hieroglyphics instead of letters and words,' Harry says, attempting to continue a bland, light-hearted conversation as he packs up the chisels and moves to the next table. He might as well start carving it with the ten minutes he has left; Snape has never approved of slacking. 'I think your symbols are a logographic writing system. The symbols are logograms, because each character is a word, not a letter.' Harry pauses slightly. 'Or they might be ideograms. Because they represent a spell, but also a concept of what that spell is and does, which is an idea, not a word...'</p><p>Harry trails off uncertainly.</p><p>'I shall investigate the matter further,' Snape says after a moment, and it's stiff and barely-polite, but it's an <em>attempt</em>, and Harry smiles secretly at the table in front of him.</p><p>'The book was quite good,' Harry says, as if conversing with Snape about book recommendations and ideograms is of no consequence to him, and he does it all the time (when in doubt, act like Hermione). 'I read a lot about runes in it, and how the material they're carved into can affect their outcome.' He hesitates before barrelling onwards, throwing caution to the wind. 'You know, it recommended putting <em>blood</em> on your runes after you've carved them!' Harry can't hide how scandalised he is by the idea.</p><p>'Blood is a common ingredient in many potions and rituals,' Snape says blandly, as if he's talking about herbs, and not <em>the contents of someone's body</em>.</p><p>'Yeah, but...' Harry's face scrunches up as he carves the next symbol - <em>increase ingredient potency</em> - and he has to stop for a moment to make sure that his will and focus are strong enough whilst he creates the ideogram. It wouldn't do to accidentally weaken the magic of the symbols because he was distracted by his pitiful attempt at a conversation with Snape.</p><p>'I prefer my runes blood-free,' Harry says dryly after he's completed the second ideogram. 'Even if shed blood gives the ritual or symbols extra "life" or whatever. It's just... gross.'</p><p>Harry very determinedly isn't thinking about the end of his fourth year.</p><p>'Unfortunately, Mr Potter, we can't all be magical powerhouses,' Snape says - and that's <em>definitely</em> sarcasm. Snape has a sense of humour and Harry can prove it. This is world-changing information. Forget Snape's ideograms; <em>this</em> is the revolutionary concept. 'Witches and wizards often need blood to substitute for the large amounts of potent magic that they simply lack, particularly once they've corrupted their souls with extremely Dark and detrimental spells and rituals.'</p><p>Harry's nose wrinkles. 'When I used my magic on the practice block, it worked fine.'</p><p>'You are extremely magically powerful, Potter,' Snape says flatly.</p><p>Harry nearly falls over at the unexpected - and completely false - compliment. 'I'm no different than anyone else,' he disagrees immediately. 'We all thought Ron and Neville were weak, but they were just using wands that didn't suit them for years. Once they got wands that matched them they were much better.'</p><p>'Not many thirteen year olds can cast a corporeal Patronus.'</p><p>'Not many try,' Harry argues, glancing back over his shoulder at Snape. 'When I taught the DA in fifth year, all of them could at least produce white mist by the end of it. Most of them had a proper Patronus.' Harry smiles as a thought occurs to him. 'You were the one that told me that will, focus and intent are the factors that truly affect a spell. If thirteen year olds think they can't produce a Patronus - or Transfigure their mouse, or even brew a tricky potion - then their will won't be nearly as strong. It's not their magical potential that's affecting them. It's their incorrect assumption that age influences magical ability, and that they must simply live more years before they can master certain spells. And then when they're old enough, they expect to be able to cast it, and so they can.'</p><p>Snape absorbs this silently. Harry grins and turns back to his work.</p><p>Harry has carved two more ideograms and is halfway through another when Snape says quietly, 'So you believe that you are of average magical ability? You reject the notion of significant variation between magical potential, despite the differentiation between many other human traits, such as height, hair colour and even intelligence?'</p><p>Harry finishes his fifth ideogram before he shrugs. 'I think that we might all have different heights and hair colours, but in the end we've all got the same heart and soul,' he says.</p><p>'People can be born with heart defects,' Snape says immediately.</p><p>'That's rare, and only amongst Muggles,' Harry counters. 'And everyone is born with the same soul.'</p><p>'Theoretically.'</p><p>'No,' Harry disagrees. 'If souls were different, we'd know from observing the variation in Azkaban prisoners and criminals as they're Kissed.'</p><p>
  <em>Sirius lay on the ground, motionless. From between his parted lips there rose suddenly a small, glowing ball of light, like a Lumos the colour of a Patronus -</em>
</p><p>Harry's hand involuntarily clenches around the handle of the small, slim hammer he's holding. He sighs, releasing the tension building between his shoulder blades.</p><p>'I've never seen any indisputable evidence that witches and wizards are born with inherently weaker or stronger magic,' Harry says finally. 'If anything, I'd say wand wood and core, as well as practice, motivation, work ethic and mental force of will play a much greater role than any inherent differences present from birth.'</p><p>Harry starts to carve the next symbol, but stops because he's not concentrating at all, and he doesn't want to ruin the ideogram, or even the entire sequence. 'If I am more powerful than the average wizard, or I can do spells that are deemed difficult for others my age, then I'd argue that I've simply had a much greater motivation than the average bored teenager to learn some of those spells. And that the only thing that makes me any different from anyone else is probably the amount of accidental magic I had to do as a child.'</p><p>The words are out of Harry's mouth before he can take them back.</p><p>'The amount of accidental magic you <em>had</em> to do?' Snape repeats, because of course he doesn't miss the slip-up.</p><p>Shit.</p><p>Harry closes his eyes momentarily. His back is to Snape, but he imagines he can feel a questioning gaze drilling into the back of his head.</p><p>'I was bullied,' Harry says simply. He's learned with age that the best way to hide a secret is with another secret that's harmless to reveal. People don't look for another tragedy when they assume they've already found one.</p><p>They always think there's only one.</p><p>'Sometimes I managed to Apparate away,' Harry says uncomfortably when the silence stretches, fiddling with his tools.</p><p>
  <em>I was starved. The lack of food made me lethargic and I always felt so, so cold.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>My magic made me warm again, and fed me when I was so hungry I couldn't even feel it anymore. It stopped me from dying of thirst or passing out in the midday heat. Magic protected my skin from burning, and regrew my hair when it was all shaved off. It cleaned my old mattress when I wet the bed from nightmares or sheer panic after Uncle Vernon had locked me in again. Magic made sure that the frying pan always missed when Aunt Petunia swung it at my head.</em>
</p><p><em>I was using accidental magic all the time - to run, to hide, to</em> <b><em>survive</em> </b> <em>. Of course I'm more "powerful" than everyone else. I've had so much more practice.</em></p><p>
  <em>I wonder if that's why you're a strong wizard too.</em>
</p><p>'Pack up,' Snape suddenly instructs him, breaking Harry out of his reverie. Scrambling to place all of the tools back in the cloth kit, Harry returns them to Snape's desk before following him out the door and down the corridor to the empty classroom they'd used last time.</p><p>'Stand in the centre,' Snape commands, pointing to the middle of the room. Harry obeys, and then the intense tutoring begins.</p><p>For the first ten minutes Harry exhausts himself practising rapid fire casting at the far wall as he had before; his Stunners are still slower than they should be, according to Snape, and he is ordered to use nonverbal magic as much as possible both during and outside of the tutoring sessions.</p><p>Harry sighs but doesn't argue. The lack of disagreement or resentment seems to mildly surprise Snape, but he takes it in his stride and continues criticising Harry's mediocre performance.</p><p>Once Harry has thrown so many Stunners at the wall that his right wrist is starting to develop a slight twinge, the real challenge begins.</p><p>'Why did you ask me to tutor you?' Snape asks seriously.</p><p>'Er...' Harry is taken aback by the unexpected question. 'Because you're good at Defence? And-'</p><p>'Did you ask me to tutor you for your exams, or for real life?' Snape clarifies.</p><p>'Both,' Harry replies immediately.</p><p>Snape nods, and then slashes his wand downwards. Harry tenses instinctively, but nothing sails towards him. Instead, a shimmery, almost transparent barrier appears in a large circle around Snape. Harry recognises it as a shield that will protect Snape from Harry's magic.</p><p>'Defence Against the Dark Arts is important,' Snape says quietly, his voice rough but with faint notes of his old, familiar smoothness that the scarring hasn't quite stolen, 'but <em>prevention</em> should be your preferred tactic at all times. Rather than having to defend yourself against a spell, you are better to make it so that one is never cast in the first place.'</p><p>Harry's eyebrows rise slightly. 'Knocking the opponent out?' he guesses, but Snape shakes his head.</p><p>'Too slow and easily countered,' Snape disagrees. 'The most effective method is parrying.'</p><p>Harry's mind's eye flashes back to his brief duel with Snape at the end of his sixth year - if it can even be called a duel, given that Snape was barely even trying - and the quick, effortless way with which Snape had parried all of Harry's spells, cancelling them before Harry could even finish shouting the incantation.</p><p>'You're going to teach me how to parry spells?' Harry asks, straightening up with enthusiasm.</p><p>Snape inclines his head in a shallow nod.</p><p>Parrying spells, as it turns out, is fiendishly difficult.</p><p>Snape begins by casting harmless<em> Lumos</em> orbs whilst Harry attempts to flick them away before the spell can fully form. It's a good thing that the little glowing lights are harmless, because ten minutes later Harry still hasn't managed to parry a single one.</p><p>'Come here,' Snape says once Harry's efforts have proved fruitless. Harry's heart sinks, and for a moment he thinks Snape has given up on him already. He opens his mouth to protest, but then Snape beckons him forwards with one impatient hand and gestures to the end of his wand.</p><p>Harry approaches cautiously. The gossamer, gently glowing barrier is still erected around Snape, but he shrinks it with a circular wave of his wand, allowing Harry to draw nearer to him.</p><p>'Concentrate on the end of my wand,' Snape instructs him seriously. Harry obediently gazes down at the end of Snape's wand, which is pointed at the floor. 'Focus your senses on it - not just your eyes, but your <em>magic</em>. You can feel your own magical core; extend that same awareness towards mine, too. Try to feel the power building.'</p><p>Harry frowns down at the wand tip as it slowly begins to shine with an under-powered <em>Lumos</em>. When Snape holds his left hand out in demonstration, hovering it above his right, Harry tentatively does the same, trying to feel... something.</p><p>At first, there's nothing - just Harry's hand held a few inches from Snape's wand, near to Snape's own left hand, which is shaking infinitesimally. Forcing himself not to look at Snape's trembling hand, but rather concentrate on his magical senses, Harry closes his eyes in attempt to clear his mind and allow himself to become more conscious of Snape's magic.</p><p>When squeezing his eyes shut and thinking about magic doesn't work, Harry switches tactics. Instead of waiting for Snape's magic to come to him, Harry decides to send his magic out to Snape.</p><p>The hours of meditation required for the Animagus transformation taught Harry, Ron and Hermione awareness of their own magic; perhaps it's time to put the newfound skill to use. But instead of wrapping his magic around himself to change his shape, Harry attempts to spread tendrils of that magic outwards, like invisible sensors.</p><p>Cautious and painfully aware that he might hurt Snape if he messes this up, Harry slowly begins to let magic trickle down his arm and pool in his hand, taking great pains to keep it tightly reigned in close to his body. Once a small amount of magic has gathered in his left palm, Harry tentatively pushes it to the tips of his fingers, sending out tiny little bursts of power in the hopes that they'll connect with the Lumos on the end of Snape's wand and bounce back like an echo.</p><p>It takes almost three full minutes, and a significant amount of power being poured into the spell by Snape, but eventually Harry feels it.</p><p>'Oh,' he exclaims softly, and he can't hide the awe in his voice.</p><p>'You feel it,' Snape says triumphantly. It's not really a question, but Harry nods anyway, his gaze still locked onto the end of Snape's wand, and the star-bright spell burning there.</p><p>It feels like nothing else Harry has ever felt before. The sensation is subtle; it's easy to see why Harry has never noticed it, and most wizards seem to miss it for their entire lives.</p><p>The magic is neither hot nor cold, welcoming nor hostile; instead, it pulses gently against the underside of his hand, pressing lightly against his palm and brushing up against his own magic. If Harry had to ascribe an analogy to the feeling, he would guess that it is akin to how magnetism might feel, or radio waves; it is as if a satellite is calling quietly out into the unknown and hoping for a reply from the cold depths of space.</p><p>Or perhaps Harry is simply overthinking it.</p><p>'It's amazing,' he blurts before he can stop himself.</p><p>Snape blinks, surprised. He recovers in the space between two blinks, however, resuming his utterly unruffled persona.</p><p>'Magic is amazing, Mr Potter,' he says plainly. His mouth quirks. 'Or haven't you realised that yet?'</p><p>The tone isn't biting, only lightly sarcastic, so Harry isn't offended. 'No, I think I finally get that now,' he says, thinking back to the silver-grey magic spilling into carefully carved runes.</p><p>There had just never been <em>time</em>, before, to sit back and simply appreciate how incredible the world around him was. There had almost always been something to worry about, or run from, or fight his anger over; there had always been a monster waiting just around the corner to snuff his little light out.</p><p>Harry gazes down at light glowing with Snape's invisible power. There had always been stress and panic and a fight to just <em>survive</em>, before, but now...</p><p>There are no monsters now. Not even Snape is as caustic or cruel as he once was, and Harry doesn't know what inspired the change, but he is grateful for it.</p><p>Potent power and possibility tingle and pulse beneath Harry's fingertips, just waiting to be released and come alive into something amazing. He'd never had the chance to feel this, but now he has, and can, and it's wonderful. It's everything he'd ever dreamed that magic would be.</p><p>Harry looks up, catching the dark eyes of the man before him. He's never had the chance to experience <em>this </em>before, either: peaceful, successful collaboration. With <em>Snape</em>.</p><p>'Again,' Snape says quietly, and Harry can't help it; he grins as he steps back - because Snape isn't giving up on him or leaving. He's going to stay right here with Harry until he gets it right.</p><p>Powerful potential flickers between them, invisible but strong and impossible to ignore or forget.</p><p>Harry raises his wand and focuses on the faint pulsing he can feel building at the edge of his senses. Snape begins to cast another Lumos, speaking the incantation slowly and aloud to give Harry a better chance to parry it. There is a slight change in pressure, like a pulse through water, creating waves that whisper against Harry's skin and core...</p><p>Taking a chance and following his instincts, Harry reaches out with his magical senses for the power he can feel building at Snape's command. Before Snape can release the spell, Harry angles his own wand and then slashes it to the side, as if he were batting away a fly.</p><p>The light radiating from the end of Snape's wand flickers. It doesn't go out entirely, but it's close. The spell has partially dissipated.</p><p>Harry meets Snape's eyes, elated, and smiles broadly.</p><p>'Good,' Snape says shortly, brisk but honest, and the compliment somehow means so much more coming from the reticent man - because if Snape is saying it, then it must be true.</p><p>Something warm and bright and shining pulses inside Harry's chest, just like the Lumos on the end of Snape's wand.</p><p>• • • • • •</p><p>When the end of their hour has been reached, Harry sighs reluctantly and waits for Snape to dismiss him. Harry has made significant progress with parrying, but he doesn't want to leave.</p><p>Snape, however, shows no sign of stopping.</p><p>At first, Harry doesn't question it, too delighted to be getting a couple of extra minutes of Snape's time. But five extra minutes becomes ten, which soon slips into twenty, and by thirty minutes of extra tutoring, Harry is mildly concerned that Snape has completely lost track of time. If the man ends up staying awake late into the night to finish marking he should have been doing instead of instructing Harry on how to detect the subtle signals of silent magic, he'll probably kill Harry.</p><p>But when Harry hesitantly reminds Snape of the time, the older wizard just looks at him.</p><p>'I am aware, Mr Potter,' Snape drawls, and then continues listing various minute and elusive details about radiated magic that Harry should be able to feel.</p><p>'There should be a subtle hum or vibration surrounding you, Potter, and pressing lightly against the magic beneath your skin. This sensation tells you that someone has cast strong active magic on you...'</p><p>It takes Harry until nine o'clock to realise that this is Snape's way of thanking him.</p><p><em>His actions say more than his words ever could</em>, Harry thinks with quiet certainty, and smiles when he feels Snape's magic brush up against his own.</p><p>• • • • • •</p><p>Tuesday is Hermione's "light" day, since she "only" has two classes instead of her usual three, so after they've learned the uses, appearances and growing conditions of various roots in Herbology and somewhat successfully Transfigured each other's skin, hair and eyes into some rather wild combinations in Transfiguration, Harry, Ron and Hermione sequester themselves at their usual table in the library and proceed to cover every inch of it with heavy books and thick scrolls of parchment.</p><p>'Borage is too vague in chapter twenty three,' Hermione groans, giving her copy of <em>Advanced Potions Making</em> a look filled with frustrated despair.</p><p>'I think my eyeballs are about to fall out,' Ron chimes in miserably.</p><p>'I think I've died,' Harry contributes flatly, letting his head drop sideways onto his own Potions book, so that his cheek is smushed against the hard cover.</p><p>Even Hermione, who seems to think that books are Merlin's gift to the world, is struggling to summon up the motivation to wade through their piles of work. It probably doesn't help that they were up late the night before testing out the capabilities of Harry's Animagus form, including flying, which had been awesome, and repeatedly crashing into the wall, which hadn't been awesome, so they're all rather tired and drained (and in Harry's case, achy and slightly sticky with the remnants of bruise paste).</p><p>'I'm never staying up late with you two again,' Hermione declares around a yawn.</p><p>'You love us really,' Ron says into his folded arms.</p><p>'Hmph,' Hermione replies.</p><p>Harry fiddles with his Potions textbook, extremely unwilling to open it and reveal the blocks of text awaiting him. <em>At least there are diagrams</em>, he tries to tell himself reassuringly. <em>And Snape will murder me if I don't read this</em>.</p><p><em>And he might even be happy with me if I </em>do<em> read it</em>, a hopeful little voice chirps from the back of his brain, where all his evil thoughts seem to breed and plot his downfall, and sanity goes to die.</p><p>Harry lifts his head and cracks the cover open, trying to muster up even a little enthusiasm. He'd been so motivated only last week...</p><p>After staring at the pretentious foreword for five minutes without taking much of it in beyond Elliott Wright's high opinion of the esteemed study of <em>Potio et Potio Confectura</em> (Potions and Potion Making, Hermione translates, once she takes pity on him), Harry gives up. Resigning himself to being less productive until he's caught up on his beauty sleep, Harry shoves away his textbook and pulls out something he actually <em>will</em> enjoy: Snape's symbols.</p><p>Reading back over the theory notes Snape wrote is a lot more enjoyable and enlightening when Harry has first hand experience to support his knowledge. And now that he's actually witnessed the symbols in action for himself, Harry can finally comprehend just how brilliant their invention is.</p><p>Solving the problem of runic enchantments is a massive achievement - even Harry knows that much - and he can already imagine the consequences of and reactions to such a discovery. This will be huge. Granted, Harry might have gotten <em>slightly </em>overexcited when he first witnessed Snape's invention in action - Snape hasn't completely reinvented magic, perhaps, but he has at least improved upon it. Revolutionised it, if Harry is feeling particularly generous... which he is - but it seems obvious that this new development in magical theory is remarkable.</p><p>After all, the symbols can potentially lengthen the time a Charm remains active, prolong Transfigurations or allow for massively complicated runic enchantments to be carved without collapsing in on themselves and blowing their casters up.</p><p>It makes Harry wonder why Snape hasn't tried to use his symbols to heal himself.</p><p>Pondering the symbols and their possible uses, Harry twirls a quill in his hand and digs through his pile until he's found the sheet of parchment with all of the symbols neatly inked in his own careful hand, with the function of each labelled underneath.</p><p>Tapping his quill against the table absentmindedly as he considers the symbols before him, Harry frowns in thought and then glances at his abandoned Potions textbook.</p><p>Snape deserves a book like that, he thinks suddenly. A published book with a suitably pretentious foreword by some overly self-important Potions Master, and his name embossed on the cover in bright, rich gold. Or silver. He <em>is</em> a Slytherin, after all.</p><p>Instead, Snape hasn't even bothered to name the discovery that could make him famous.</p><p>Harry bites his lip, turning his thoughts around in his mind as if he is Snape examining potions ingredients to ensure they are fresh and properly prepared. It could be rude, Harry thinks uncertainly. Perhaps to do this would be somehow intruding...</p><p>But Snape has a bad habit of letting the very best of him remain hidden and unseen. All the world has ever known of him has been his worst. Isn't it time they got to see something else?</p><p>In a sudden burst of impulsive decisiveness, Harry dips his quill into his bottle of ink and then carefully inscribes a title across the top of his index of Snape's symbols.</p><p><b><em>Potio Runica</em></b>, he writes in large, neat letters. And then, underneath: <em>Created by Potions Master and Professor Severus Snape.</em></p><p>• • • • • •</p><p>That evening after dinner, Fred and George spend an hour entertaining Gryffindor Common Room with a loud reading of the most farcical and ridiculous love letters Harry and Neville have received. Harry gets a promise to be Ernest Sandsbury's "one and only beloved" and "the orchard of my eye", and someone else swears that they will treat him "like a prize hippogriff", but Neville truly takes the cake when he produces a poem that the twins gleefully recite, barely managing to contain their sniggers and sarcasm all the while, and fending off interruptions from both the amused crowd and each other.</p><p>
  <em>'My love for you is evergreen-'</em>
</p><p>'Yeah, 'cause it's like vomit.'</p><p>'Silence, you uncivilised swine! This is <em>poetry</em>, Fred.'</p><p>'It's a disgrace is what it is.'</p><p>'Wheesht, the lot of you!'</p><p>'Who are you, McGonagall?'</p><p>'Respect the poetry! Ahem. Hem hem. Now. <em>My love for you is evergreen; so small and round, just like a bean</em>-'</p><p>'Like a <em>bean</em>!?'</p><p>'This cannot be real.'</p><p>'Why would you want their love to be <em>small</em>?'</p><p>'And fat.'</p><p>'Round! It is small and <em>round</em>, you ignorant ingrates, like the humble, mighty bean.'</p><p>'The only time a bean is "mighty" is when it's baked and causes a mighty detonation in your arse, George.'</p><p>'Ron!'</p><p>'Slanderous lies, you weasel!'</p><p>'<em>My love for you is vomit green; warped and fat, just like a bean</em>-' Fred recites solemnly.</p><p>'None of you have any respect for the arts,' George says sniffily. 'Or beans.'</p><p>'We all know what beans produce when they come in contact with you,' Ron says dryly. 'And if this is what the arts produce, I'd say it's shit all around.'</p><p>Someone Transfigures a wall sconce into an enormous, glowing green bean, and things only get worse from there.</p><p><em>'My love for you is evergreen!'</em> George cries. <em>'So small and round, just like a bean. But from this humble start will grow a garden that all lovers know!'</em></p><p>'What?'</p><p>Fred snorts.</p><p>'That doesn't even make sense.'</p><p>'Was this written whilst under the influence of good old Ogden?'</p><p>'Obviously.'</p><p>'This guy is clearly a has-bean.'</p><p>'You know what else is small like a bean? His-'</p><p>'Intellect? Literary genius? Foresight? Yes, I'm <em>sure</em> that's what you were going to say, Geoffrey.'</p><p>George valiantly continues over the unimpressed commentary from all sides.<em> 'And with some time and plenty luck, our plants will bloom and so I'll pluck-'</em></p><p>'You mean fuck.'</p><p>
  <em>'-A bright and vibrant red bouquet to show for you my love each day!'</em>
</p><p>George gives a dramatic bow and flourish, and raucous, exaggerated applause fills the room.</p><p>'Let me fix that for you, Georgie,' Fred says serenely when the noise dies down. <em>'My want for you is vomit green; so warped and fat, just like a bean. And from this ugly start will grow a horror that all lovers know! So with some time and rotten luck, you'll get with me and I will fuck your ass so many times a day you won't have the strength to walk away!'</em></p><p>'Wow.'</p><p>'Amazing.'</p><p>'That's awful.'</p><p>'Truly a masterpiece.'</p><p>'That was crap.'</p><p>'No, wait, how about: <em>So with some time and awful taste you'll get with me and promptly waste every dusk and every day, 'cause to me you're just an easy lay</em>.'</p><p>'Hey, no slights against Neville!'</p><p>'Would you rather I told him I loved him like a fat bean?'</p><p>'Touché.'</p><p>'Anyway, I didn't mean <em>him</em>. Although whatever twat wrote this obviously thinks that Neville has a bean brain to fall for courting this bad.'</p><p>'Ha! Bean brain!'</p><p>'How about bean-'</p><p>'Geoffrey I know your mother.'</p><p>'Neville, I love you like a fat bean!'</p><p>'A <em>humble</em> fat bean. The humble is important.'</p><p>'Yeah, no one wants an arrogant fat bean.'</p><p>'What, like Fudge?'</p><p>'What did beans ever do to you?'</p><p>'Oi! Andrew! If you get me a red bouquet you can bang me any day!'</p><p>'Oh, for God's sake,' Hermione sighs crossly.</p><p>Ron snickers.</p><p>'The most curvy creature I've ever seen! My whole life, where have you <em>bean</em>?'</p><p>'Banging Andrew, apparently.'</p><p>'Shut up, Sean.'</p><p>'Hey Caroline! Your love was like a bean all along - in the dirt where it belongs!'</p><p>'FUCK OFF FRANK!'</p><p>'Yeah, to be <em>frank</em>, you'd know all about beans, since you've got two shrivelled ones between your legs!'</p><p>'Alright, that's enough!' Hermione begins, standing up and giving the rowdy lions a threatening look reminiscent of McGonagall.</p><p>'You know, given the size of beans, that's actually quite an endowment-'</p><p>'I'd rather have bean balls than bean boobs!'</p><p>'GEOFFREY!'</p><p>'Your face makes me greener than Neville's fat beans!'</p><p>'And that's any different than usual how?'</p><p>'Quiet!'</p><p>'Is that a blighted bean or just your face? I can't tell.'</p><p>'Probably because you're as blind as a bean, you dim witted wanker.'</p><p>'I'm away for some masturbeantion - anyone else wanna join?'</p><p>'That was genuinely terrible.'</p><p>'You could make it great by joining in.'</p><p>'In your dreams, Phillips.'</p><p>'Yes, you will be.'</p><p>The twins, having sown their seeds - or beans - of chaos, lean back in their chairs with smug satisfaction and Summon a box of jelly beans to eat with relish. Harry snorts and shakes his head silently, slipping from the room without anyone's notice for a change as Hermione and the prefects attempt to restore a semblance of order to the room.</p><p>Harry wishes them the best of luck - by the look of things, they're rather fucked.</p><p>• • • • • •</p><p>Neville disappears shortly after the Fat Green Bean Escapade, his presence requested by a mysterious note delivered via a stone-faced Slytherin perfect who seems utterly unimpressed by the loud rhyming chants of "a red bouquet a day keeps the cheating at bay" and "Oh how I wish I was a humble baked bean; then I'd destroy Weasley's arse, the best I've ever seen".</p><p>He doesn't return until almost an hour later, and when he does he's carrying a small, green plant with an thickened, elongated body like a cactus. Neville stares at it like the pot holds the soul that's just been ripped out of him.</p><p>'Neville?' Harry asks curiously, uncertain of whether he should be concerned or amused. Ron decides his reaction a moment later, when he catches sight of Neville's potted plant and begins shaking with laughter.</p><p>'Another admirer!?!' Ron chokes out between bursts of laughter. 'Did they give you any beans?!'</p><p>Neville's face blanches, screws up, turns bright red and then smoothens out again. Flushing yet stubborn, Neville lifts his chin and strides hurriedly across the room, carefully depositing his new plant beside his "Saharan Fire Breathing Cactus" - which had actually turned out to be a completely normal cactus - on the windowsill.</p><p>'No,' Neville denies, but Ron sniggers and his cheeks darken further.</p><p>Harry grins slowly. 'Shall we start a little greenhouse for all of your beans?'</p><p>
  <em>'No.'</em>
</p><p>'Oh no I think that's a great idea Harry, and we can make a little cactus shrine to Neville's lover-'</p><p>'I will cover your pillows in pus!'</p><p>'But <em>Neville</em>,' Harry says slowly, savouring each word, 'you're like a flower in full bloom, attracting all the birds and the bees.'</p><p>'And the beans,' Ron adds, and starts laughing again. Harry, helpless to the hilarity of it all, joins in.</p><p>Neville faux-glares at them both. It doesn't have the slightest effect on their amusement. In fact, it seems to be contagious, as Neville's lips soon begin twitching and he glares at them even harder.</p><p>Once they've stopped belly shaking and head bopping in silent, voluntary asphyxiation, Harry and Ron lie down in their beds and cheerfully argue about the Chudley Cannons' chances in the Quidditch league.</p><p>'Neville's suitor has more of a chance of wooing him with beans than the Chudley Cannons do of ever touching the Quaffle, never mind the Snitch!' Harry declares.</p><p>'Well given that Beanie Boy has got Neville mooning over his new cactus, I'd say their chances are bloody brilliant then!' Ron retorts passionately.</p><p>'It's not a cactus,' Neville says with the airy tone of someone only giving half of their attention to the conversation. He's still gazing at the plant adoringly, but he does spare them a quick flash of a glance.</p><p>'Let me guess, it breathes fire and eats people,' Ron says sarcastically.</p><p>'On their birthdays,' Harry adds in agreement.</p><p>'And Christmas,' Ron says enthusiastically, nodding along. 'And then sprays acid and digestive juices everywhere.'</p><p>'And its faeces.'</p><p>'Yeah, and then it shits on everyone.'</p><p>'And steals all your sweets.'</p><p>'Yes! And bends the Chocolate Frog cards!'</p><p>Neville rolls his eyes. 'It's a flowering euphorbia.'</p><p>Harry and Ron blink at him.</p><p>Noticing their uncomprehending stares, Neville huffs and adds, 'It's also known as the spurge family? And the succulents - never mind. This is a Southern Peace Tree, also known as the Hemisphere Heaven. Herbologists think it shares ancestry with the African Milk Tree, although it has clearly differentiated over time.' Neville beams down at his "Peace Tree".</p><p>'...So what's it do?' Ron asks dryly.</p><p>'Eat everyone,' Harry replies promptly.</p><p>'It has unique medicinal properties,' Neville says with a touch of sarcasm, finally tearing his gaze from the plant. 'And it's <em>extremely</em> rare.'</p><p>'Why?' Harry asks curiously.</p><p>'Because it eats everyone who goes near it,' Ron says flatly.</p><p>'Because during the Mad Plague of 1432, it was picked and used so much that it almost became extinct,' Neville answers with a twitch of his lips. 'And it can only be grown under very specific conditions. It needs virginal, magically pure soil, for example, as well as very high temperatures.'</p><p>'The Mad Plague?' Harry repeats with raised eyebrows.</p><p>'A magical disease spread that caused excruciating pain which drove people to the point of madness,' Neville says solemnly. 'It was compared to the Cruciatus, and sometimes it's referred to as The Pain Plague.'</p><p>Harry absorbs that silently.</p><p>'It was bad,' Ron says cheerfully. 'But it got cured, thank Merlin.'</p><p>Neville nods. 'But until the cure was discovered, the only thing known to help was an infusion made from this plant. It has a soothing, calming effect and can numb a lot of pain.'</p><p>Harry blinks at the plant sitting innocently in its pot. Would Snape...?</p><p>But Harry can't ask that. He can't demand that Neville give up an extremely rare plant he clearly already adores to help a teacher he has never liked. Especially when Harry might soon have a possible cure of his own to offer.</p><p>Still, later that night when he can't sleep, Harry's eyes wander to the two pots sitting silent and unassuming in the moonlight. When he glances over, he sees that Neville is still staring at them, too.</p><p>He can't ask, Harry reminds himself. But by Merlin is it tempting.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Headcanon that the real reason Voldie was so powerful is because Tom used so much accidental magic as a child - out of both necessity and cruelty.</p><p>Also, I imagine the Gryffindor Common Room as absolute chaos xD</p><p>Also also, <b>thank you for the love last chapter.</b> I was actually quite nervous about putting it up because I was worried people would react badly to the ideological/moral components. Thankfully that doesn't seem to have even the case! Phew! And thanks for the support you guys offered about my family situation. I'm doing okay! :) But it's lovely to know that I have such kind, supportive readers.</p><p>(Obviously I've had to do an edit to the last chapter but that's fine! C'est la vie haha.)</p><p>Thanks for reading, and massive thanks to anyone that comments. You make my day.</p><p>Next up: the shit with Jenkins finally hits the fan... (prepare the pitchforks!)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Quintessence: A Quest (Trust: A Test)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A/N: forgot to mention it last chapter, but: "Potio Runica" basically means "Potion Runes". Potio is Latin, but Runica is completely made up (rune in Latin is... rune, which felt a bit anticlimactic lol! Although I figure I can get away with it, since JKR herself butchered Latin words too! :P )</p><p>I have also head-canoned that a class period is fifty five minutes in the HP verse. The timetable is a disaster otherwise. So a double is 110 minutes, i.e. 1 hour 50 minutes, although sometimes I simply refer to it as two hours because that reads more smoothly (iirc I did that in previous chapters... somewhere...)</p><p> </p><p>Enjoy! :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Wednesday marks the last day of September - the closing of their first month of eighth year, and the end of their last September at Hogwarts.</p><p>It is also, ironically, on this day of endings and closings and past put to rest, that everything is blown to pieces and turned to shit.</p><p>Apparently, Harry's a month ahead of schedule for his yearly disaster.</p><p>The catalyst that kickstarts it all - or perhaps the first trigger that fires the heavily loaded gun - is DADA class on Wednesday morning. The double runs from 9:00am until 10:50am, and for once Harry has absolutely no problems with the class.</p><p>Mainly because Harry's not there.</p><p>Now that he has secured tutoring with Snape, Harry feels confident enough in the private lessons and his own self-studying abilities to begin skipping some of Jenkins' lessons and using Hermione's notes to keep up with the class. Jenkins hasn't tried to give him detention again, despite the fact that he failed to show for all of the others, but her eyes never stray far from Harry in class and it's like being a bug trapped under a glass.</p><p>If there's one thing Harry hates more than feeling afraid, it's feeling trapped.</p><p>And so it is with a satisfied smile that Harry seats himself in the library on Wednesday morning and pulls out his NEWT Defence Against the Dark Arts textbook. Jenkins had assigned a text titled <em>Intermediate and Advanced Defensive Techniques</em>, but in a fit of pettiness Harry has kept the book Snape had assigned in sixth year and mostly uses that instead.</p><p><em>Confronting the Faceless</em> is a rather grim, gritty book; it holds absolutely nothing back from the reader and expects its audience to come to terms with all manner of horrible things, such as the detailed account of magical torture and the Cruciatus Curse on page 213 - much like Snape. The stern Potions Master also demands hard work, perseverance and an awareness of "real life" beyond the relative safety and comforts of Hogwarts' walls, and Harry can't help but agree with the attitude. Being prepared is far preferable to being naïve and ignorant.</p><p>Creating a list of all of the offensive and defensive spells he knows, and that Jenkins has recently demonstrated in class, Harry places a tick beside those he is confident with and can cast silently, which proves to be about a third of the list. He knows that non-verbal casting is a requirement for his NEWT exams, but Harry isn't sure if the spells Jenkins has been showing off with will actually be of any use to him in a real-life conflict situation, or even his practical exam.</p><p>Perhaps he can beg a seventh year prospectus off Snape.</p><p>Maybe.</p><p><em>Confronting the Faceless</em> has nineteen chapters, so Harry decides to set himself a chapter a week. Allowing for a break at Christmas, he should be finished the textbook by the end of February. Despite knowing that Hermione would probably consider that timeframe <em>far</em> too long - nigh on disastrous, most likely - Harry decides that it seems like a good schedule for him and vows to stick to it.</p><p>Chapter One begins with an overview of general countercurses and modifications that can be made to counterspells once they have been mastered. Harry dutifully copies down all of the suggested improvements and new incantations, and writes a brief summary on each. Tapping his quill against his parchment, Harry briefly wonders whether he can convince Snape to mark essays for him... and then decides that he'll revisit that option at a later date.</p><p>(It would be cruel to ask a man whose hands cramp and shake when he writes to mark an essay as a favour. Despite what Snape might have claimed in the past, not even the Chosen One is that self-centred or selfish.)</p><p>Now that he's well-rested and recovered from late night Animagus experimentation, Harry is much more bright-eyed and motivated, and he gets through Chapter One without any problems or daydreaming whatsoever. Thrilled with completing his first task so quickly, Harry moves on to a Charms homework essay comparing the theories of the power and purpose of incantations and wand movements.</p><p><em>Quintessence: A Quest</em> argues in favour of the theory that wandwork and words are an essential part of spellcasting. The concept, known as Trifold Theory, connects to the much larger Elemental Theory, which describes the five elements of the earth: fire, water, earth, air and aether.</p><p>Trifold Theory proposes that aether is magic in its purest form, and that to manipulate it into its desired state, the aether must be interacted with by three specific components: the wand, the wizard and the words. Together, these three factors allow for the aether to be "taken into the human vessel and transformed" according to <em>Quintessence</em>, and "henceforth projected out into the world in a mutated form".</p><p>In contrast, Catullus Spangle's <em>Charms of Defence and Deterrence</em> includes a thirty page introduction which argues heavily in favour of Lone Magic Theory, which presents incantations, movements and even wands themselves as entirely optional, and views them as props and supportive tools rather than necessary requirements for magic. The book resoundingly rejects the concept of Trifold Theory, and expounds that "magic alone is needed for magic".</p><p>Spangle's arguments are bolstered by the occurrence of accidental magic in childhood (and occasionally adulthood, during heightened emotional states), which Trifold Theory suggests are still powered by words and movements, albeit unintentional and perhaps even subconscious ones. The prevalence of wandless magic in Africa is also evidence in favour of Spangle's explanation, as well as nonverbal magic, which Trifold Theory argues still utilises words, as the incantation is repeated silently in the caster's mind.</p><p>However,  those in favour of Trifold Theory assert that the fact that most wizards never manage to master wandless or non-verbal magic proves it to be the superior explanation, for if wands and words are merely optional, then the vast majority of the population should not be so heavily reliant upon them. It also suggests that wandless magic is not in fact wandless, but rather that the caster's body (or body part, such as the hand) becomes the wand.</p><p>Catullus Spangle thinks this is all a load of shit.</p><p>Harry has never had much of an opinion either way in terms of the nature of magical casting and manipulation, and if pressed would probably have flipped a coin and picked whichever theory fate decided for him. He knows that Trifold Theory was accepted for thousands of years before Spangle came along in the eighteenth century and upended everything with his wild, controversial claims, so Harry supposes he might have favoured the more well-established and long-held theory simply because it seemed more likely to be correct.</p><p>However, after having discussed magical theory rather extensively with Snape during their two hour long conversation about runic enchantments and subsequent carving sessions, Harry finds himself much more firmly in favour of Spangle's Lone Magic Theory.</p><p>And so it is with great enthusiasm that he quills a twelve inch essay discussing the many merits and shortcomings of the two theories: Spangle does not indicate how wands and words play a role in magic, if they are indeed not required - yet Trifold Theory offers no explanation for the existence of magical objects such as the Sorting Hat, or indeed magical creatures such as House Elves, centaurs and thestrals, all of which utilise magic without a wand.</p><p>Once Harry has dedicated six inches to evaluating each theory, he then uses his last few inches to offer his own personal opinion and alternative theory, and references neither <em>Quintessence: A Quest </em>nor<em> Charms of Defence and Deterrence </em>to substantiate his claims. Instead, Harry lists his source of reliable information as <em>Professor S. T. Snape</em>, and details the arguments the professor had discussed with him in favour of Spangle's theory, whilst simultaneously offering explanations for some of the gaps in established Lone Magic Theory.</p><p><em>It is therefore apparent</em>, Harry writes quickly, <em>that the concept proposed by Professor Snape - the power of focus, will and intent, and the nature of words as nothing more than a convenient but ultimately unnecessary structure invented to simplify magical manipulation - is the most comprehensive and satisfactory explanation of the modern day theories, as it offers logical, consistent and self-evident reasoning for not only wizarding magic, but also that of rituals, magical creatures and even magically-enhanced plants such as Hogwarts' own Whomping Willow.</em></p><p>
  <em>Professor Snape's Theory is most notable for its inclusion of components of both Trifold Theory and Lone Magic Theory, as Snape combines the two contrasting arguments in a rational manner that explains the evidence for and against both satisfactorily. The nature of words is, indeed, an important part of twentieth century magic, as proposed by Trifold Theory, and its place in the elementary education of young witches and wizards is invaluable when it offers an accessible and simplistic method to teach rudimentary and intermediary magic and their core principles.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Yet in addition to the acknowledgement of the utility and successful application of wands, words and even wand movements, Snape's Theory also introduces the notion of advancement in magical mastery by overcoming the modern reliance on such tools and learning to manipulate magic on a more fundamental and expansive level. Where Spangle failed to offer a method for this (beyond that magic alone is required for magic), Snape presents a much more comprehensive, well-reasoned and reliable argument: that sufficient focus, will and intent are vital for powerful magic - and indeed even more basic spellwork - and that advanced magical manipulation will often be hindered by dependence on language, as our internal understanding of words unconsciously limits us, and hence our magical abilities.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It is therefore my conclusion that advanced magic - also known as "Greater Magics" - is achieved by first mastering the Art of the Wand and its Words, before moving beyond this technique and branching out into a much more nebulous and less explored discipline: the Art of Focus and Intent Will, which enables the caster to overcome boundaries previously set by language barriers, wand movements or runic restrictions.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>As we approach the twenty first century and attempt to overcome the destruction wrought by three wars, it is my belief that we shall find the answers we seek not in the past, but in the innovation, creation and determination of the future. No other theorists have so fully embodied this as Professor S. T. Snape, and his Theory of Ascending Arts (as named for the purpose of this discussion) consequently surpasses all others with its forward-thinking and logical deduction grounded in real-word evidence. Hence, an abstract theoretical concept can be observed in nature and even our own selves, and understood through Snape's application of combined Trifold, Lone Magic and original theory.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It seems clear that neither Trifold nor Lone Magic Theory is inherently superior; rather, the theories work best when applied as Snape has demonstrated: together.</em>
</p><p><em>Done! </em>Harry thinks proudly, tossing down his quill and massaging his aching right hand. On further inspection, his essay reveals itself to be fifteen and a half inches, not fourteen, and Harry takes a moment to despair that he has somehow transformed into Hermione.</p><p>Said witch chooses that moment to appear, and she gapes when she sees the length of Harry's essay. 'What is that?!' she exclaims, rushing around the table to examine his work.</p><p>'Charms homework,' Harry replies, stretching out his back and feeling small pops ripple across his muscles and spine.</p><p>'You were supposed to be doing Defence Against the Dark Arts!' Hermione chastises, but she fails to sound truly reproachful when she's still too busy scrutinising his Charms essay.</p><p>'This is really good,' she adds a moment later, her eyes racing across Harry's lengthy scroll. When Harry laughs, she glances up at him and sighs with exasperated amusement. 'Yes, alright, fine, so you used your double period productively!' she relents, but her good mood quickly falls away. 'Although-'</p><p>Before Hermione can begin to describe whatever bad news she's about to depart upon Harry, Ron appears from between the shelves with a frown that transforms into a groan when he sees Harry's essay.</p><p>'Oh bloody hell, Hermione, don't make Harry read all that, he'll die!' Ron exclaims, dropping down into the chair opposite Harry and draping himself rather despairingly across the back of it.</p><p>Harry snorts. Hermione looks stuck between bemusement and indignation, but she settles for a short, huffed laugh. 'Harry wrote this, not me,' Hermione reveals casually, and grins when Ron's eyes snap open disbelievingly. 'So perhaps you'd also like to adopt a more productive mindset for our final NEWT year?' Hermione asks slyly.</p><p>Ron stares at her in horror, and then turns a look on Harry that clearly conveys that this is a betrayal, and Ron will never forgive him for it.</p><p>Harry smiles lopsidedly. 'I'm pretty sure this is a one off,' he says, leaning back in his chair and stretching again. 'I just got... I dunno, a bit carried away, I guess. I thought it was interesting.'</p><p>For a moment Hermione looks as though she desperately wants to launch into a Charms theory discussion, but she nobly restrains herself and instead fixes Harry with a concerned look.</p><p>'We need to talk to you,' Hermione begins, seating herself beside Harry and adopting a serious expression. Harry immediately sits up straight, fixing all of his attention on his two best friends.</p><p>'About what?' Harry asks warily. If this is about the Dursleys again -</p><p>'About Jenkins,' Hermione says, wincing slightly.</p><p>Oh. Well, that's even worse, somehow - which is quite an achievement, really.</p><p>'She noticed you skipped class today, and she was pissed about it,' Ron explains, folding his arms across his chest and scowling.</p><p>'When she asked where you were, we said you couldn't come to class...' Hermione continues. 'Which is <em>technically</em> the truth, since you can't attend classes because she makes you uncomfortable and treats you inappropriately... but, well...'</p><p>'She got pissed about that too,' Ron interjects when Hermione trails off. 'She knew you weren't in the hospital wing, or we'd have said, and when we didn't have a proper excuse she went off on one.'</p><p>'She told us to tell you that blatantly disrespecting her authority is unacceptable, and that she will be attending a meeting with our Head of House about your behaviour,' Hermione reveals, looking scandalised and alarmed.</p><p>'What authority?' Harry mutters grumpily as he absorbs this latest development.</p><p>'I know, mate,' Ron agrees sympathetically. 'She's absolutely full of it.'</p><p>'Unfortunately, that won't stop her from going to Professor Vector,' Hermione continues anxiously. 'And she'll be able to prove that you've been breaking the rules.'</p><p>'For good reason!' Harry defends.</p><p>'I know, I know,' Hermione reassures him. 'But we need to figure out what you're going to say.'</p><p>'What?'</p><p>'In your defence,' Hermione explains quickly. She frowns at Harry. 'We're not letting her just get you in serious trouble when you've done nothing wrong!'</p><p>'I <em>did</em> skip class,' Harry points out. 'And multiple detentions.'</p><p>'Because of extenuating circumstances!' Hermione exclaims, digging through her bag to unearth a blank scroll and her favourite Self-Inking Quill. She immediately begins plastering the parchment with detailed notes, muttering frantically to herself.</p><p>'Wait,' Ron says suddenly, interrupting the solemn silence enveloping their table. Harry throws up silencing and privacy spells as a precaution against eavesdroppers, and also to prevent Madam Pince from kicking them out. 'Professor Vector is our new Head of House, right?'</p><p>'Yes,' Hermione says distractedly, still scribbling on her sheet of parchment.</p><p>'Isn't she really strict?' Ron asks worriedly.</p><p>Hermione pauses, glancing up from her notes and ink-splattered hands. 'Yes,' she admits after a moment's hesitation.</p><p>'Why, do you think she'll just automatically take Jenkins' side?' Harry asks, faint dread beginning to crawl across his skin like scorpions.</p><p>'Well...' Ron's face scrunches up briefly before he glances between Harry and Hermione. 'I was just thinking... aren't Sinistra, Vector and Jenkins all friends?'</p><p>Harry's stomach drops. 'What?'</p><p>Ron looks uneasy. 'I'm pretty sure they all got really friendly over the summer during the Rebuilding,' he says slowly. 'I think I remember Fred and George joking about them secretly having a threesome.'</p><p>Hermione makes a face of disgust at the twins' irreverent suggestion before she refocuses on the problem at hand. 'Leaving aside your brothers' total lack of respect for authority figures,' Hermione begins disapprovingly, 'I think they might be right. We saw Professor Sinistra talking to Jenkins at dinner two weeks ago, didn't we?'</p><p>'That was just once,' Harry protests, but it sounds weak even to his own ears.</p><p>'It's also the only time we actually looked, mate,' Ron points out apologetically.</p><p>Harry sighs and drops his head into his hands. 'So... what? I'm fucked either way?'</p><p>'Language,' Hermione reprimands automatically. 'We're in the library.'</p><p>'He put up privacy spells,' Ron says immediately in Harry's defence, like the true friend he is.</p><p>'You're not... doomed, Harry, we'll find a way around this,' Hermione says reassuringly. 'There must be some way around this...'</p><p>'We sell the story to the papers and get rich off it,' Ron suggests optimistically, like the absolute traitor he is.</p><p>'<em>No</em>,' Harry says forcefully.</p><p>'Definitely not,' Hermione agrees, because <em>she</em> is a real true friend.</p><p>'I could write to my mum and dad?' Ron asks uncertainly.</p><p>'I don't want anyone else knowing about this,' Harry says firmly. It's embarrassing enough as it is - he doesn't even want to imagine Mrs Weasley's reaction.</p><p>'And an owl is easily intercepted,' Hermione adds, nibbling on her lower lip. 'Especially now, with the Twining going on - everyone will be watching Harry to see if he owls anyone anything. They'll probably want to uncover any secret courting and try to steal the letter.'</p><p>Harry resists the urge to groan loudly.</p><p>'I think we should go to Headmistress McGonagall,' Hermione declares after several seconds of careful consideration.</p><p>Harry gives in to his urge to groan and rubs at his forehead, resting his elbows on the table. 'Hermione...' he says, sighing.</p><p>'Harry,' Hermione says very firmly, turning in her chair to face him fully. Harry doesn't look at her; suddenly, the wood grain of the library table is fascinating. There's a big whorl there, and... and...</p><p>Harry braces himself for the inevitable lecture about his tendency to bottle things up and minimise mistreatment and his history of - of - of <em>abuse</em>. He knows what's coming: a list of reasons why what Jenkins is doing is wrong, and why he shouldn't have to put up with it, and why all of the horrible things in the past weren't his fault either, but that he's clearly still... <em>affected</em> by them in some slippery, subtle, vicious way that's soul-deep and scarring.</p><p>But Hermione doesn't say any of that. Instead, she takes Harry completely by surprise and says:</p><p>'I'm afraid of Jenkins.'</p><p>Harry freezes, and then he slowly raises his head to stare at Hermione. He's torn between disbelief, concern and confusion; why is <em>Hermione</em> afraid of their DADA Professor? Is it just because of Harry? If so, that's ridiculous, but - did Jenkins <em>do</em> something? To Hermione?! If she did, Harry is going to fucking kill her -</p><p>'I'm afraid of what she's going to do to you,' Hermione says softly, and she's pale and her eyes are wet and oh, god, she's properly upset. 'I'm absolutely terrified that she's going to do something really awful that'll hurt you irreversibly and that you won't tell anyone until it's too late because you still think that you're on your own and that you have to face everything by yourself and just knuckle down and deal with it, just endure it until it's over, and - and - Harry I can't let that happen! Not - not <em>again</em>, and you're already dealing with so much and if that stupid bitch hurts you even worse I'll curse her myself because the last person in the world that deserves it is you!</p><p>'Not that anyone deserves this - no one deserves this! And what if she goes after someone else? What if she finally realises that she doesn't have a chance with you, or she-' Hermione chokes and her voice wavers. '-She <em>gets what she wants</em> and moves on, and then she tries to sink her claws into Neville or Fred or George or <em>Ron</em>? What if she leaves a string of hurt people behind her and I didn't - I - ' Hermione swipes under her eyes. 'What if this <em>escalates</em>, Harry? What if this slowly gets worse and I - <em>we</em> - didn't do anything to stop it?'</p><p>Harry is too stunned to reply.</p><p>'And the worst part - the absolute <em>worst</em> part - is that I don't think she even realises how awful she is!' Hermione sniffs and wipes her nose with a tissue. Her cheeks are dusted red, and twin tracks of tears have painted war stripes down her face. She looks angry and stressed and rebelliously defiant, like she had during the worst of the war, when the world was caving in on them and it was all they could do to just keep standing.</p><p>'Hermione...' Ron begins uncertainly, looking worried and mildly alarmed, but Hermione shakes her head determinedly and he trails off.</p><p>'No! No, I'm fine,' she says stubbornly, and then she straightens up and fixes Harry with a fierce look. Her eyes are bright with the light reflected in her tears. 'I think we should go to Professor McGonagall, Harry, because Jenkins is so fixated on you and trying to get you to notice her and - and <em>lust after her</em> that she doesn't seem to realise how bad her behaviour and attitude are.</p><p>'She doesn't see you as a person - she sees a hero and a public figure and an object of her affection. Not a person, an <em>object</em>. You're a prize to win and she's prepared to play dirty just to get you. All she's thinking about is how much she wants you and how amazing everything will be once she has your attention and money and fame.</p><p>'Jenkins doesn't care about you as a person, so she won't care about your personhood, or if you get hurt, or the fact that you're not interested at all. Your disinterest isn't going to stop her, it's just a hurdle in her way. Just like those suitors that write you ridiculous letters and don't care if you're gay - so what? It's not your genuine love she's after. It's everything else. Even if she's telling everyone - and probably herself - that she wants <em>you</em>, she doesn't. Not really. She just wants the benefits.'</p><p>Hermione takes a deep breath, and it doesn't hitch or shudder. 'She might not seem dangerous or malicious right now, because she's not - <em>right now</em>. But what happens when she gets desperate or vengeful? How far is she willing to go to get your money? Your notoriety? Your power and popularity?'</p><p>Hermione frowns. 'And even if she doesn't - even if she never gets any worse than what she's done already... she should still be punished and condemned! Harry, can't you see - there's no point waiting until this all gets worse, or "bad enough" that you admit you need help. <em>It's already bad enough</em>. She's already disrespected your boundaries and gone against your explicit wishes and ignored your rejections - and she's made you feel unsafe, to the point that you feel you have to avoid her class! That's not normal! Or fine!</p><p>'I was going to wait and give you time to think this over and hopefully change your mind, but... <em>Please</em>, Harry - even if you don't fully agree with me, please just trust me on this. I've never lied to you, and I'm not lying now. Please tell Professor McGonagall. I really think it's for the best.'</p><p>Hermione eventually runs out of words, her passionate, earnest ramble spilling out everywhere and then petering off into salt-stained silence, broken only by the sound of her deep breathing.</p><p>Harry is speechless. But beneath the shock and bafflement he feels at Hermione's words, and underneath the deep, visceral disagreement he feels at her claims and proposal, there is a buzzing, crawling, scraping feeling that itches beneath his skin. His throat is dry, and his shoulders have tensed up so tightly they ache faintly, and the palms of his hands are almost as wet as Hermione's cheeks.</p><p>This doesn't feel right. He doesn't think Jenkins is that big of a deal. Harry is more than happy to follow his original plan: get tutoring from Snape, skip DADA classes when possible and keep his head down (<em>and his mouth shut</em>). It was never Harry's intention to tell anyone anything about this, and if he hadn't been so furious after his first detention with Jenkins, he might not even have told Ron and Hermione.</p><p>He doesn't want to go to McGonagall.</p><p>...But.</p><p>But he trusts Hermione. With his life, with his love, with his secrets and fears and weaknesses. He trusts her to have his back, to tell him the truth, to be loyal and kind and brilliant.</p><p>If Harry can trust Hermione with all of that - can trust her when breaking into a bank or hunting horcruxes or leading a secret army or whispering in the Common Room that he wants to do his parents proud - then surely he can trust her with this, too.</p><p>She's always wanted the best for him. Always.</p><p>Harry glances at Ron. His other best friend is concerned and solemn, but when Harry catches his eye, Ron swallows and then says quietly, 'I think she's right, mate.'</p><p>It's not what he wants to hear. But that isn't what Harry asked for - he asked for the truth. It's what he <em>needs</em> to hear.</p><p>This is what makes them his best friends, Harry realises distantly, even as a shiver shoots up his spine and leaves him feeling caged and unsettled. Ron and Hermione aren't just here for the laughs and the fun and all of the good times; they're here for the anger and the grief and telling him that he's wrong, or to stop or wait or <em>think this through</em>, and they're here for when Harry's so lost in his own head and past and scars that he can't see what's right in front of him.</p><p>Harry would trust them to lead him through a battlefield blindfolded. If he can trust them with something as massive and life-changing and potentially destructive as that... then he can trust them with everything else too.</p><p>He can. He will. He does.</p><p>Deep breath. In, out. Let in the good, push out the bad. Slow breath. In, out. Strengthen his resolve, wipe away his doubt. Hold on to what matters: to the moment, to himself, to <em>this</em>.</p><p>'Okay,' Harry says quietly after almost two minutes of thick, throttling silence. 'Okay.'</p><p>So much stark relief crashes across Hermione's face and cracks apart her stress and fear that Harry knows he's made the right decision. Even though he'd planned to simply grit his teeth and march through whatever murky hell Jenkins landed him in, he never intended to drag his friends down with him. He never intended for <em>them</em> to get hurt.</p><p>Harry can't stand watching other people get hurt. And this hurts them, he realises in slow motion epiphany. His problem with Jenkins deeply troubles them. <em>Harry being hurt hurts them.</em></p><p>He doesn't think he's ever fully understood that, until now - as stupidly obvious and simple as it seems.</p><p>Harry won't let his friends get hurt. He'll do whatever it takes to keep them safe and happy. And if that means protecting himself with that same fervour, too, then... so be it.</p><p>He'd do a lot worse for his best friends than merely (<em>crack himself wide open</em>) talk.</p><p>(<em>And so - slowly, slowly, carefully, gently, slowly - a great big wall comes toppling down, and Harry's secrets begin spilling out.</em>)</p><p>(<em>Because they hurt when he hurts. Because they care.</em>)</p><p>
  <em>(Because this time not even a horcrux could make them leave. This time he won't have to confront his fears alone.)</em>
</p><p>• • • • • •</p><p>The walk to Professor McGonagall's office - the Headmistress' Office - is nerve-wracking. It's not quite terrifying, but it certainly leans heavily in that direction. Harry's all scrambled up inside, heart pounding loudly and erratically like a drunk drummer; he feels as though heat is practically pouring off him, and yet somehow he still manages to feel cold.</p><p>Fear. This is fear.</p><p>Fear had been Harry's Boggart, once upon a time - before he'd learned that there were worse feelings than his own sweat-sticky terror, like inconsolable grief, or soul-destroying guilt - and it feels as if he is facing one again now, except Harry can't find the strength to laugh at it; has no humorous image to conjure in his mind that will keep the scratching and strangling in his gut at bay.</p><p>'I'll wait for you,' Hermione whispers, and behind her Ron nods firmly, looking determined and worried and so humblingly loyal.</p><p>'You can do this, mate,' Ron says encouragingly.</p><p>Just as Harry turns to the gargoyle, ready to croak out a request to see the Headmistress, Hermione presses something hard and cool into his palm. He looks down, and sees the glint of light playing off glass, and...</p><p>'It's a Calming Draught,' Hermione explains quietly, her voice soft and concerned. As usual, she's seen right through Harry and read him as easily as a first year textbook. 'I made some at the end of the summer; I thought I would be really stressed with the NEWTs, but... I haven't been.' Her lips quirk, for a second letting a slip of happiness peel back her anxiety and peek through. It is gone quickly, however, lost to the tight grip of her hand as it squeezes his own before she steps back.</p><p>There aren't butterflies in Harry's stomach; instead he has been infested by a nest of angry hornets, all buzzing and stinging and cramping his gut painfully. He knocks the Draught back without a second's hesitation.</p><p>Within a minute, an unnatural calm has begun to flow through Harry, chasing away the venomous hornets and soothing his sickly stomach. The sweat on his skin dries, and a Freshening Charm wipes away all evidence that remains of his stress. In fact, he feels almost blasé about the entire upcoming event, because why <em>should</em> he be nervous to talk to Professor McGonagall? It's <em>McGonagall;</em> Harry's always liked her. Everything will be fine.</p><p>The potion can't, however, erase the lingering unease and fear that whispers in the back of his mind, muttering about Jenkins and the Dursleys and how no one will believe him... and they'd never done anything <em>that</em> bad anyway...</p><p>But Harry trusts Hermione - more than he trusts the dark voices whispering in his head, even - so braces himself and locks eyes with the stone guardian.</p><p>'I'd like to speak to Professor McGonagall,' he says firmly, and watches with a heart rate that is only slightly unsteady as the statue slides away, revealing the opening in the wall and spiralling staircase.</p><p>'Good luck,' Hermione whispers, and with one last, fleeting glance behind him, Harry ascends the steps that lead him towards...</p><p>Conflict. But perhaps also resolution.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A/N: can we just take a moment to laugh at the fact that my phone autocorrected "Harry seats himself in the library" to "Harry drags himself in the library" l m a o it knows what's up</p><p>You may have noticed that I adore magical theory and lore-building. Don't mind me whilst I ramble for fifty paragraphs about Lone Magic Theory! :D #sorrynotsorry</p><p>Catullus Spangle is a canon character (most notable for his theory on Patroni in Charms of Defence and Deterrence as detailed in a JKR essay online), as is the textbook Quintessence: A Quest. However, the rest of this chapter is completely invented by me for shits and giggles, although I was inspired by the brief Etymology discussion on the Q: AQ Harry Potter fandom wiki.</p><p>A l s o, go Hermione.</p><p>I can practically hear some of you saying "finally!" x)</p><p>I had to split this chapter because it ended up being wayyyy too long - over 10k - so sorry about the cliffhanger! I know, I know, I'm evil. Please don't kill me??</p><p>:D</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Confronting the Faceless</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This plot point is probably pretty obvious but I feel like it's... <i>necessary</i>. Ya know?</p><p>And you've all been dying for it lmao. Sorry for making you wait! :P Some of you are hilariously vicious though, props to the people ready to strangle Jenkins through their screens :,) y'all made me laugh.</p><p>Also... SNAPE'S POV WHOOOOOOT</p><p>Shoutout to <b>@ImmortalYoshi</b> who asked me to do Sev's POV, as well as <b>@quietescapist</b>. Your wish has been granted! Also, <b>@CoffeeSmokesAndDietCokes</b> is the reason this got published today, so shoutout to them too!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Harry walks into Headmistress McGonagall's office at her sharp call of, 'Enter!' he discovers that the room is already full of people.</p><p>Well, not quite <em>full</em> - but it certainly feels like it to Harry, as his eyes dance over the forms of Professors Sprout, Flitwick, Sinistra, Vector, Snape and...</p><p><em>Jenkins</em>.</p><p>'Uh-' Harry freezes up, eyes darting quickly over the unexpected audience arranged before him in a semi-circle wrapped around McGonagall's desk. The adults have all turned to face him at his entrance, and Jenkins looks particularly vindictive.</p><p>'I can come back later,' Harry says uncertainly, glancing at Professors Vector and Sinistra, both of whom look rather unimpressed with his appearance. Snape is as stone-faced as ever, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed rather than taking a seat like everyone else, but what really concerns Harry is that Flitwick isn't nearly as cheerful as he usually is, and Sprout is frowning lightly.</p><p>'No, that won't be necessary Mr Potter,' McGonagall says firmly. 'In fact, your timing is rather... coincidental. I was just about to send for you.'</p><p>Harry swallows around a stone in his throat.</p><p>'Oh,' he says, and then stands silently to the side whilst McGonagall thanks her staff members and sends them on their way. Most of the chairs are vanished, but Jenkins, Harry notices with curling, sour dread, remains seated in front of Professor McGonagall.</p><p>'Take a seat, Mr Potter,' McGonagall says, indicating the seat beside Jenkins with her hand. For a moment Harry considers refusing, but he doubts the disobedience would help his case. He needs to appear calm, mature and responsible; acting like a petty, bitter kid won't get him anywhere, and it certainly won't make McGonagall respect him or want to listen to his version of events.</p><p>Reluctantly - very, <em>very</em> reluctantly - Harry takes a seat.</p><p>Jenkins is smirking, he notices through numb apprehension. The Calming Draught is preventing Harry's body from reacting to his fear, but it can't fully stop him from feeling it in the first place; it just makes it more manageable.</p><p>'What is that, Mr Potter?' Professor McGonagall asks, and Harry follows her line of sight down to the empty glass vial still clutched tightly in one hand.</p><p>'Oh,' Harry says dumbly, and then thrusts his hand into his pocket, stuffing the vial out of sight. 'I, er... had a Calming Draught.'</p><p>Professor McGonagall stares at Harry from the other side of a wooden desk that suddenly seems so massive a distance he'll never possibly cross it. Is this really a desk, or rather a chasm?</p><p>To Harry's surprise (and embarrassment, and faint relief), Snape doesn't leave; instead he folds himself into the corner and looms there, like an angry shadow.</p><p>
  <em>(Jenkins can't do anything whilst Snape is here.)</em>
</p><p>Harry steels himself, drawing up his perseverance and readying himself for an argument. Snape told him that he could do anything with proper focus, will and intent. Harry can do this. He can fight against Jenkins. He <em>can</em>. He will. (He must.)</p><p>
  <em>Tears like war stripes down Hermione's face -</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I'm afraid of Jenkins.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>(They hurt when he hurts.)</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And what if she goes after someone else?</em>
</p><p>'Professor Jenkins informs me that you have been failing to attend any of the detentions she has given you, Mr Potter,' McGonagall says, voice dripping with disappointment. Harry doesn't let it upset him. Once McGonagall gets the full picture, he doubts she'll still be on Jenkins' side. Hopefully.</p><p>Now all Harry has to do is <em>(tear down his walls and rip himself open)</em> give her the full picture.</p><p>'Yes,' Harry confirms blandly. McGonagall seems surprised by his admission, as if she'd expected him to deny it. Why? Because she thinks he'd lie about something like this, or because she really hadn't thought it was true?</p><p>McGonagall fixes him with a stern look. 'I expect an explanation for this unacceptable behaviour, Mr Potter,' she says sharply. 'Perhaps you should start with how you earned yourself four detentions in a single week.'</p><p>'Certainly,' Harry agrees readily, grateful for a chance to share his side of the story. Or perhaps that's just the Calming Draught. 'Jenkins tried to flirt with me, I rejected her, she took it badly, I rejected her again, she claimed I wasn't gay and tried to insult Ginny and then I basically told her to piss off.'</p><p>Silence.</p><p>'The other detentions were for not turning up for the second one,' Harry adds when no one speaks. He hopes he doesn't sound as bitter or impertinent as he thinks he does. 'I got <em>that</em> one for walking out in the middle of my first one.'</p><p>Snape momentarily closes his eyes.</p><p>'Is this true, Professor Jenkins?' McGonagall demands frostily.</p><p>'No!' Jenkins cries out, looking torn between fury and horror. 'He was acting appallingly-'</p><p>'I'm willing to provide memories for a Pensieve and a statement under Veritaserum,' Harry interrupts ruthlessly.</p><p>More silence. Stunned, this time, Harry muses thoughtfully. He feels sort of high; fuzzily detached from the entire situation. Maybe it's adrenaline. Or maybe it's just the Calming Draught.</p><p>Or maybe it's him. Maybe it's his bravery.</p><p>
  <em>I</em>
  <em> can do this.</em>
</p><p>'That will not be necessary,' McGonagall says eventually. 'Allow me to clarify: Professor Jenkins approached you with romantic intentions, you declined, she approached you again and you once more declined, after which you had a... disagreement?'</p><p>'Yes,' Harry says calmly.</p><p>'No!' Jenkins says not-so-calmly.</p><p>Snape sighs irritably. Harry sort of agrees.</p><p>'The "disagreement" was more of a row in the corridor, during which I threatened to hex her if she spoke badly of Ginny, and she attempted to intimidate me with her "authority" as my professor,' Harry offers casually before Professor McGonagall can continue. He doesn't mind implicating himself if he's also dragging Jenkins down with him. The worst he can get is a detention - Jenkins can get <em>fired</em>.</p><p>'I see,' McGonagall says shortly. She pauses. 'Is there anything else you'd like to add, Mr Potter?'</p><p>Harry considers it for a long moment. 'Not really. There are plenty of witnesses for everything that happened in class if you want proof.'</p><p>He decides not to mention that Jenkins had momentarily thought he was dating Snape. It would be hilarious, of course, and worth it just to see the man's face, but Snape would probably also kill him, and Harry kind of likes breathing.</p><p>...He doesn't know why he doesn't mention the way Jenkins had tried to touch his arms and chest. Surely that would have her fired before Harry could so much as whisper <em>Murderous McGonagall</em>. But something stops him from opening his mouth and saying it.</p><p><em>Say it! </em>something in Harry yells, just as another part of him cries, <em>Don't say it!</em></p><p><em>She didn't really </em><b><em>do</em></b><em> anything</em>, Harry tells himself anxiously. <em>I left before she actually did anything incriminating. She'll just argue that the touches were innocent or accidental, and I can't prove her wrong</em>. <em>For all I know, they were.</em></p><p>The tiny little voice in the back of Harry's head that thinks he's wrong starts screaming. He ignores it...</p><p>...And it gets louder.</p><p>'And what exactly happened in class, Mr Potter?' Professor McGonagall demands.</p><p>'Oh, well, at first Jenkins was treating me differently than everyone else and trying to win me over, and then after I walked out of her first detention she ignored me; later on she tried... showing off...'</p><p>'I was doing my job!' Jenkins interrupts indignantly. 'I was teaching your class!'</p><p>'How did Professor Jenkins treat you differently?' Snape interjects, speaking for the first time since this fiasco began.</p><p>'Uh, she called me Harry but everyone else by their last names, she complimented me constantly, asked me to demonstrate in front of the class for forty minutes but Hermione was only up for two minutes... she asked me out, obviously...'</p><p>'Minerva,' Snape says, and then doesn't say anything else.</p><p>Professor McGonagall is frowning.</p><p>'How was Professor Jenkins "showing off"?' Professor McGonagall asks, but there's something in the way she says her question that makes Harry pause. He gets the feeling that his next words will be very significant.</p><p>'Er. Well, she was using a lot of very flashy spells - some of them were useful, but some of them were downright impractical or had more effective alternatives that weren't shown. And-'</p><p>'I was doing my job!' Jenkins interrupts indignantly. 'I'm supposed to be teaching defensive spells!'</p><p>Harry stops.</p><p>'Mr Potter?' Professor McGonagall asks, encouraging him to continue.</p><p>Harry wonders why he's bothering to tell them this; why he's bothering to say anything at all. It's not like it's ever mattered in the past - with Quirrell, or Malfoy, or Umbridge... no one ever believed him. Not any <em>adults</em>, anyway. All he's ever had in his corner no matter what are Ron and Hermione.</p><p>So Harry hesitates. He wonders whether he's just getting his hopes up for nothing. Again.</p><p>
  <em>(Is this going to be like Sirius' offer in third year all over again? A momentary glimpse of freedom right before he's told to get back in his cage?)</em>
</p><p>'Perhaps it would be best if Jenkins stepped outside for a moment,' Snape says quietly, dark eyes flicking between Harry and Jenkins.</p><p>Professor McGonagall sits up and casts a cool look at Jenkins. Something lightens in Harry's chest. 'I agree, Severus,' McGonagall says crisply. 'Jenkins, if you could wait for me in your office, that would be appreciated.'</p><p>It isn't a question. It's an order. Jenkins clearly knows it, too, and she must be getting desperate, because she blurts out an insistent, 'He's lying! <em>I was just doing my job!</em>' before Snape takes her lightly but firmly by the elbow and steers her out of the room.</p><p>The door shuts loudly behind her.</p><p>'Now, Mr Potter,' Professor McGonagall continues once Jenkins has been forcibly escorted from the room and Snape has cast an anti-eavesdropping Charm. 'What else did Jenkins do that you felt was out of the ordinary?' McGonagall pauses and scrutinises him. 'Would you like another Calming Draught, or some water?' she asks kindly.</p><p>Harry swallows. 'No, I'm fine,' he says in a voice that's supposed to be strong and confident, but instead comes out rather strained and croaky.</p><p>Professor McGonagall eyes him. 'Is there another member of staff you would prefer to talk with you about this?' she asks gently, watching him with concerned eyes. 'Anyone that you would like to sit in with you? Or anyone you would prefer to leave?' She doesn't look at all offended that Harry might not want her or Snape to be present whilst he's questioned. 'You are in complete control, here, Harry,' McGonagall finishes calmly, voice bordering on earnest.</p><p><em>I never am,</em> Harry's inner voice immediately disagrees. <em>I'm never in control</em>.</p><p>But... that's not true anymore, is it? Things are... <em>better</em>, now.</p><p>Maybe... <em>maybe</em>...</p><p>
  <em>(It's time to bust open that fucking cage.)</em>
</p><p>'Can you get Hermione?' Harry blurts out roughly, his hands clenching around the armrests of his seat.</p><p>'Of course,' Professor McGonagall agrees immediately. She flicks her wand and casts a Patronus; the cat circles around her chest once before coming to a stop on her desk.</p><p>'Please ask Miss Granger to come to my office immediately,' McGonagall says evenly, and the cat's tail flicks twice before it leaps into the air and dashes away, vanishing through the wall with a burst of silver-white blue.</p><p>McGonagall is visibly surprised when Hermione appears less than thirty seconds later. Harry smiles bashfully at the Headmistress and admits, 'She was waiting for me out in the corridor.'</p><p>Professor McGonagall's lips twitch. 'I should have known,' she says dryly. Her good humour, however, is quick to fall away.</p><p>Hermione slides into the chair beside Harry which Jenkins had vacated only minutes before and shoots him a comforting, reassuring smile. Harry tries to return it, but his nerves and discomfort must be visible because Hermione reaches out and clasps Harry's hand, squeezing it gently.</p><p>For a moment, Harry allows himself to just focus on the heat he can feel from her skin, and the grip of her slim fingers on his. She's holding on to him firmly, tight enough that it's clear she won't be letting go.</p><p>Harry breathes.</p><p>The little voice in the back of his head starts banging a war drum.</p><p>• • • • • •</p><p>Severus is, admittedly, not having a good day.</p><p>First, a first year Hufflepuff had nearly exploded their cauldron - and their classmates - and left Severus wondering if all Hufflepuffs were destined to be disasters this year, or if this little moronic midget just happened to be related to the Samuels family. He'd thought - foolishly - that he needn't worry about making the younger years practice simple potions, that surely his condition wouldn't restrict even this -</p><p>He'd been wrong, of course. The Curse had flared up as all of the latent background magic filled the classroom like smoke. The pain had been... Well. He'd managed, and that was what mattered, in the end. Everything else was irrelevant.</p><p>So after the morning's near mass murder via twit-brained, Snitch-sized Hufflepuff, Severus had firmly concluded that there would be <em>no</em> more potion brewing of any kind until the symbols had been carved into all of the tables and activated.</p><p>Really, it was a sorry day when he was thanking Merlin for the existence of Potter and his clueless attempts at bargaining, but... well, Severus was thanking Merlin for Potter and his surprisingly-helpful brand of idiocy. It had been a miracle when the boy had willingly agreed to their deal, and even more so when he actually carried out his half of it. <em>Competently</em>.</p><p>Clearly, the end of the world is upon them all.</p><p>The second disappointment of the day had come, unsurprisingly, in the form of himself. This is a somewhat regular occurrence, but Severus had still managed to get his hopes up <em>(like a blind fool)</em> when he attempted to continue the carving Potter had started on his latest table, but not had the chance to finish. The boy - somehow, amazingly, against all odds - is ahead of schedule, and if Severus could advance this unexpected boon even further, and work this to his advantage -</p><p>But no. His hands shook so badly he accidentally bludgeoned his own thumb with a badly-aimed downward swing of the hammer, and whilst he was cursing his way through his newest pain, a wave of anger and resentment and burning <em>anger</em> had crashed through him; at himself, at his circumstances, at the Dark Lord for being a sick, twisted <em>fuck</em> -</p><p>He had calmed and collected himself, gathered his tools back up and resigned himself to his own body's betrayal, and how utterly, despicably <em>useless</em> he has become.</p><p>And now - now <em>this</em>.</p><p>Evalina Jenkins, whom Severus had disliked from the beginning on principle (because she got the job he has wanted for so long, and had been denied yet again, and didn't that just <em>burn</em>) but otherwise ignored, sits snivelling and pathetic in her chair before the Headmistress. Jenkins has even had the <em>audacity</em> to hijack a staff meeting with her whining, attempting to blame Potter Junior for all and sundry, but most notably her own incompetence.</p><p>Once upon a time, Severus would have leapt at the chance to pile on the accusations against the Potter brat... but that time has passed, and he has learned better.</p><p>...Although apparently not much better, because he should have seen this coming. He should have seen this the moment Potter came to him, begging for tutoring (and hadn't that been such a shock, such a <em>delight</em>, at the time - that Potter had actually considered <em>him</em> the best option - rightly so - and even offered up the perfect solution for Severus' dilemma over carving the desks. Oh, how perfect it had been in that moment, once he'd gotten over his shock - and how much he wants to hit himself now, for his own selfish stupidity).</p><p>Potter had been so desperate, at the time, and Severus had never asked <em>why</em>. He'd believed the story of Jenkins fawning over the Boy Wonder (who didn't, these days? People are terminally pathetic) and simply assumed that another dunderheaded nitwit had gotten the job that should've been Severus'. After Quirrell and bloody Lockhart, it hadn't even been a surprise. If Jenkins was another of Potter's merry little sheep... what of it? There was a whole horde of them - what did one more matter?</p><p>But now - to discover that not only has Jenkins been attempting to seduce the boy into a wildly inappropriate relationship, but that she has disturbed him so much that she drove him out of her classroom and straight into Severus' arms? Well.</p><p>It lays a rather sour, sickening taste over being chosen by Potter as his Defence tutor. Delight is most certainly not what he feels now; mostly, it is simple disgust: with himself, for missing the blatantly obvious, with Jenkins for being such a cow-eyed moron, and the world at large for pressuring an eighteen year old boy into sexual relationships he clearly doesn't want.</p><p>The repulsive letter Potter had received in August drifts back into Severus' mind. How many others like it had there been? Potter's reaction, whilst unexpectedly severe, was completely deserved. Even Severus can admit that such a foul letter would have rattled him at the tender age of eighteen (still so young, even if Potter's eyes occasionally seem so much older), and especially when the abominable note had been <em>anonymous</em>. Minerva had gone straight to the DMLE, of course, but...</p><p>And now Potter's own teacher has been after him. Crup on a fucking cracker. Can't the world just give him some <em>peace</em>?</p><p>(How ironic, that it should be he that is aggrieved on the boy's behalf. And how damnable he finds his past actions now, when he has glimpsed fragments of the boy beneath all of the fame and cheek and bloody <em>trouble</em>. Oh, yes, what a twisted poison it is, to realise that he has spent years hating a ghost that never resided under that boy's pale skin. Never.)</p><p>(Severus has dedicated his life to an <em>always</em> - but now he must dedicate himself just as much to remembering this <em>never</em>.)</p><p>(Always. Never. Two words that perfectly encapsulate his bitter, ugly life.)</p><p>Words like <em>grooming</em> and <em>manipulation</em> and <em>abusing authority</em> and <em>taking advantage</em> spin through Severus' mind like wild, clawed dancers shredding all of his calm and self control. Before he can stop himself (not that he truly wants to) he has said shortly, warningly, '<em>Minerva</em>.' Screaming at her with just one word that something is <em>wrong</em>.</p><p>Minerva, blessedly, gets the message - or perhaps she suspects the same herself. Either way, it pleases something dark and vicious in Severus to force Jenkins from the room. It is so blatantly obvious that her presence is preventing the truth from fully crossing Potter's lips. Oh, pieces of it have, certainly - but not the total, uncensored truth of it.</p><p>Severus knows this boy. This boy, who is really now a man, rarely hesitates or wavers or pauses. No, this man is passionate and fiery and defiant; he rebels and shouts and throws himself headfirst into trouble at every opportunity. He does not allow fear to dominate him; instead <em>he</em> dominates <em>it</em>.</p><p>That is not what this man before Severus is doing now. There have been more pauses, hesitations and anxious twitches during the past handful of minutes than all of the last seven years combined. It is as if Potter has reverted back to his wide-eyed, eleven year old self.</p><p>It is unbelievable.</p><p>It is also utterly unacceptable.</p><p>Severus will find out what caused this. And then he will annihilate it.</p><p>• • • • • •</p><p>'Remember what we talked about earlier,' Hermione whispers.</p><p>Harry nods. He feels jittery, like he could shake apart at any moment.</p><p>Thank Merlin for the Calming Draught. Thank Merlin for <em>Hermione</em>.</p><p>
  <em>(Time to be brave.)</em>
</p><p>'There's something else,' Harry says, and his voice gets lost somewhere in between stubborn and terrified and defiant.</p><p>The war drum bangs as loud as his heart.</p><p>
  <em>(But that's alright. He is lionhearted.)</em>
</p><p>'What is it, Mr Potter?' Professor McGonagall asks, sounding alert. The entirety of her attention is fixed solely on Harry. He tenses without meaning to, and Hermione's hand tightens around his.</p><p><em>(And he still has his fire.</em><em> He has risen from the ashes. He holds </em>power<em>.</em><em>)</em></p><p>'During my first detention with Jenkins,' Harry says, and has to stop for a moment to breathe. He licks his lips nervously.</p><p>The world spins, ever oblivious to the gravity pulling and tearing at Harry's heart.</p><p>Snape goes still.</p><p>'She touched my chest,' Harry says, and feels his next heartbeat as forcefully as a punch.</p><p>For a single second, everything and everyone in the room seems to freeze, except a strange feeling that rushes over Harry. His entire body seems to <em>lift</em>, and his rib cage expands, and <em>oh</em>.</p><p>This is what it feels like when the padlock hits the ground.</p><p>
  <em>(Time to rise.)</em>
</p><p>
  <em>(Time to fly.)</em>
</p><p>
  <em>(Time to </em>
  <b>
    <em>burn</em>
  </b>
  <em>.)</em>
</p><p>'Would you be willing to describe what happened to me, Harry?' McGonagall asks, and Harry has never heard her voice that tightly controlled before. Her face has gone white, and her lips are pressed together as if to keep her words contained.</p><p>'Jenkins said that we would use the detention to practice duelling,' Harry says quietly. He fixes his eyes on the wall behind McGonagall and refuses to look at anything else as he speaks. 'And... asked me to take off my robes. Because... because they would get in the way.'</p><p>Someone makes a small noise, but Harry can't tell who it is and doesn't want to look.</p><p>'Then we duelled, and - and - um, Jenkins won. But...'</p><p>Why is this so hard to say? Why do simple words stick so stubbornly to the back of his throat?</p><p>Shame. This is shame.</p><p>It's what stopped Snape from asking for help when he needed it. And it's what stopped Harry, too.</p><p>
  <em>But not anymore.</em>
</p><p>Snape found a way around it. Granted, he chose a rather unorthodox approach, but he nevertheless got the assistance he required. There is no reason why Harry can't do the same.</p><p>He turns to face Snape. The man is visibly tense and bordering on furious, but he quickly smooths his expression when he realises Harry is looking at him.</p><p>'Would you prefer if Professor Snape left the room?' McGonagall asks hesitantly after a moment of silence.</p><p>'No,' Harry denies immediately, and he can see that his answer takes Snape by surprise. Clearly, the man expected his presence to be unwelcome and intrusive. 'I...'</p><p>Harry braces himself. He already knows that he won't get anywhere with trying to speak - it hasn't worked for him in the past and he doubts he'll be able to do it properly now. Perhaps he could simply ask Hermione to say everything he can't, but that feels too much like giving up, like defeat.</p><p>This won't defeat him.</p><p>'I want you to read my mind,' Harry blurts, and determinedly keeps his gaze fastened to Snape no matter how much he would prefer to rip it away. The man's eyes widen, and his face slackens in shock for a brief moment before he composes himself.</p><p>'Are you sure, Mr Potter?' Snape asks slowly.</p><p>'It isn't necessary,' McGonagall adds.</p><p>'But it <em>is</em> stronger proof,' Harry argues. He swallows. 'And I don't think I can say the whole thing.'</p><p>Snape analyses him for a long moment, and then nods slightly. 'Very well,' he acquiesces, and raises his wand.</p><p>Harry's shoulders stiffen. He can't help it. His war drum heart thunders.</p><p>'I will not hurt you,' Snape promises softly, and Harry's panicked mind falls silent. And then Snape's lips are forming around the word <em>Legilimens</em> and Harry is squeezing Hermione's hand so hard he might break it and his thoughts are suddenly full of ripples and flashing and <em>Jenkins Jenkins Jenkins</em>...</p><p>And then it's over. It's done. Harry finally told the truth.</p><p>Somewhere, beneath all of the pain and anger and shame and humiliation screaming in his chest is a tiny, golden kernel of pride.</p><p>It glows just as brightly as the fire flaring to life in Snape's eyes.</p><p>• • • • • •</p><p>Severus sees too much, and not enough.</p><p>A million images explode around him, and he narrows in on the detention Potter described: being instructed to remove his outer robes leaving him only in a white shirt, jumper and trousers; the quick flashes and motions of a thrilling duel; Jenkins backing him into a corner and the quick burst of fear that follows the realisation that he is trapped, that she is <em>looking at him</em>; a hand that slides over his arm and massages his shoulders and darts across his upper chest like a rabbit; fear and anger and panic and a rush of wandless magic -</p><p>And then there is more: Jenkins' eyes trained on him in class; her silky movements as she stalks towards him across the Entrance Hall; a yelled argument in a corridor; the way her face looks and her lips curve when she says the word <em>seductive</em> and stares straight at him; a love letter that jabs into his spine, and the raging fire that consumes both it and him; being stonewalled and ignored for daring to reject her; <em>Your most famous move, Harry!</em>; Granger bristling at his side when Jenkins watches him for too long; a string of detentions assigned at Jenkins' whim; the slow horror of realising that Jenkins has friends amongst the senior staff and <em>he doesn't</em>; a twisted face that demands, <em>So you're </em><b><em>his</em></b><em>, then?</em> and the confusion that leads him to blurt out, <em>What?</em> and -</p><p>Severus pauses, confused and intrigued beneath his mounting anger. He dives into the memory, watches Jenkins and Potter argue before the woman sneers, flicking her eyes down pointedly to the thin, black cane in Potter's hand -</p><p>Everything momentarily screeches to a halt. That's his cane. Severus knows for a fact that it's <em>his cane</em> - he would recognise the damned thing anywhere. And then Jenkins snarls. 'You're <em>his</em> little lap dog,' and Severus is so shocked that he almost loses control of the memory entirely. He manages to snatch it back just in time, refusing to let it drift away as he watches bafflement cross plainly over Potter's features; watches him deny the accusation with wide, surprised eyes; sees the glee that lights Jenkins' face when she realises that Potter is hers for the taking.</p><p><em>No he isn't</em>, Severus thinks furiously, and ignores the flare of old, familiar humiliation that Potter spluttered, 'Are you out of your <em>mind</em>?' so disbelievingly.</p><p>(Is it truly so inconceivable that Severus could find someone? Does everyone really consider him so repulsive-)</p><p>(But no. The idea of dating Potter <em>is</em> ridiculous; even Severus can admit as much. Had the roles been reversed, he would have been just as baffled. <em>Potter</em>? Dating <em>Severus</em>? Not whilst the sun still burns in the sky.)</p><p>(Severus has done far too much wrong to ever be seen as right again in that man's eyes.)</p><p>
  <em>(Always. Never.)</em>
</p><p>Irritated by his self-centred distraction, Severus forcefully dismisses his tangled mess of emotions and focuses on his purpose for being here; this is about Potter, not himself.</p><p>He can't, however, dismiss the fury bubbling up inside him like a cauldron threatening to explode. Half of him doesn't want to dismiss it. Jenkins deserves to face his unbridled wrath for what she has done - what she might have tried to do, had Potter not spoken up.</p><p>But Potter doesn't need someone to yell and scream and swear, no matter how much Severus wants to. No, Potter needs someone to stand up for him where he cannot, and be a voice for him when his own fails, and to stand in front of him when a vicious crowd gathers. The vultures aren't here, not yet, but they will be...</p><p>Severus will be ready for them. And so will the knife in his mouth.</p><p>• • • • • •</p><p>Minerva watches closely as Severus reads Harry's mind, and sees the anger twisting her colleague's face. Her own mind is whirling wildly with everything she has just heard - and can it really all be as horrible as it seems? She doesn't want it to be - <em>Merlin</em>, she doesn't want it to be - but the slow sinking feeling dragging down through the centre of her, heavy and poisonous as mercury, whispers that she already knows.</p><p>It is. It is just as horrible and terrible and awful as she suspects it to be, and no matter how much she wishes could change all of this... she can't. It's too late.</p><p>
  <em>(Why does she always seem to be too late?)</em>
</p><p>Minerva has failed another child. Again. The same child that she has failed at least twice before, and now... now...</p><p>She closes her eyes and presses a shaking hand to the sharp, stabbing pain in her chest. It has been present ever since she attempted to intervene in Umbridge's attack on Rubeus <em>(another time she was too late, too late, always too late...)</em> and the Battle and stress preceding and following it had only made her old injuries more severe. But at times like this, when she is overcome with guilt or has pushed herself too hard, attending too many bloody meetings or burning her midnight candle for so long she ends up burning out herself... at times like this, it is worse.</p><p>But it is nothing she deserves to complain about. Severus suffers much worse - and look at what she has inflicted on Harry, and forced him to suffer through.</p><p>She should never have hired Jenkins. She should have realised something was wrong much sooner. She should have made Harry promise on his magic to come to her with any issues when she spoke to him in her office. She should have known he would hide any troubles - he always did. She should have managed to find the time to check in on him, instead of letting her other worries pile up and allowing Harry to slip through the cracks.</p><p>Guilt tears at Minerva. Her chest aches, and it feels as though someone has taken a Cutting Curse to her soul.</p><p>She must be better. She <em>must</em>. She will find a way. The paperwork and the meetings and the endless headaches brought on by meddling Ministry officials and Governors who haven't heard of boundaries are all secondary to the well-being of her students. She has allowed herself to be sucked into the bureaucracy and minutiae of it all, and that is unacceptable.</p><p>She will be better. She will.</p><p>Minerva presses her hand to her forehead and momentarily shuts her eyes. They sting, but not as much as the realisation that she has allowed another child to be lost on her watch.</p><p><em>(A young boy with wide, wondrous brown eyes and a million freckles stares up at her, and then he giggles and grins and turns to run away </em>- <em>)</em></p><p>Minerva does not cry. That will not help anyone, least of all the people she has failed. But sometimes she wishes she could.</p><p>• • • • • •</p><p>Harry, somehow, makes it through the rest of the meeting. It is awkward and horrible and he wants to flee almost the entire time he is there - but he does it. And, as Hermione repeatedly reminds him, that is something to be proud of.</p><p>Snape and McGonagall have rather bizarre reactions to the entire thing. Given that Harry didn't expect either to take his side or even believe him, it is rather... odd, to have the image of Snapeʼs murderous expression seared into his brain. Never, in all his years and detentions at Hogwarts, has Harry seen the man so livid, and if Jenkins werenʼt such a bitch Harry might even feel sorry for her.</p><p>As it is, he hopes that Snape makes her suffer.</p><p>• • • • • •</p><p>Ron is waiting anxiously for Harry and Hermione when they step off the revolving staircase and out into the corridor. He rushes towards them, looking between them for clues from their facial expressions, and his eyes linger worriedly on the way Hermione is still clutching Harry's hand in a show of support.</p><p>'How did it go? Did it go badly? Did they believe you? If they didn't listen, we'll owl Percy and dad, they can get the Ministry involved, and maybe even Shacklebolt will listen to us if-'</p><p>'It was fine,' Harry interrupts, cutting off Ron's nervous rambling. He pauses for a second, considering how he feels. 'It was... good,' he says, almost surprised to discover that his words are true.</p><p>Visible relief bursts through Ron, and his shoulders slump down as he lets out his tension in a deep sigh. 'Oh, good,' he says simply, and then smiles slightly and nods happily to himself, like that's it, and that's the problem solved.</p><p>And... maybe it is.</p><p>Harry smiles back, and it's like walking into sunlight after weeks spent in a cave.</p><p>Everything is lighter and brighter, and for once Harry can't feel the cold metal of chains or bars or fear.</p><p>All he feels is warmth.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I imagine Minerva as having a hidden guilt complex almost bad enough to rival Harry's. Not even entirely sure <i>why</i>, but... that is how I have imagined her for this fic!</p><p>Also, Jenkins? Good riddance! :,)</p><p>Btw, just to be clear, Snape's "knife" was metaphorical, not literal!!! Lol. Sadly he cannot just stab everyone. Instead, he will have to settle for wounding with his words...</p><p>"Snitch-sized Hufflepuff" was inspired by <b>The Boy Who Died A Lot</b> by <i>starcrossedgirl</i> (https://archiveofourown.org/works/670548) which - spoiler alert - has a really cute line about Harry being "standard cauldron sized" according to Snape. It's probably not necessary for such a small inspo, but I have added it to the list of works that inspired this one anyway. Credit where credit is due!</p><p> </p><p>I am sorry to add this, but <b>unfortunately chapter updates will definitely being slowing</b>. I am going back to uni now, and I am working from around noon until eight at night every day this week, and even earlier and later this weekend. I know this is the last thing you guys want to hear... but sadly I can't fail uni! So if I manage it, there will be a new update every week... but I have learned better than to make promises! So... bear with me??  :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. The Tale of Ryan Connelly and the World's Greatest Tree</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi there. You might not remember me, but I'm the author.</p><p>&gt;.&gt; &lt;.&lt;</p><p>Sorry lads! I don't even have a good excuse... just a mushy one lol. I met someone!!!!! And he is sort of wonderful and I am sort of crushing ahhhhhhhhh</p><p>So yeah an amazing man is stealing all of my time atm haha. Sucks to be you guys xD</p><p>I am so full of fluffy feels it is so ridiculous hahaaaaa :)))))))))))))</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>At eight o'clock on Wednesday evening, after Harry has had the quickest, quietest dinner of his entire Hogwarts career and then retreated to his dorm for some privacy to simply... come to terms with everything, and just think it through a bit, a message from Professor McGonagall arrives via Neville.</p><p>'Hey, Harry,' Neville says hesitantly, and it's clear he knows that something has happened, even if he doesn't know what. Ron and Hermione would never betray Harry about this - of that he is absolutely certain - but Harry can guess that his drained, downtrodden mood was rather blatant and unintentionally broadcast by his glum appearance at dinner. It wouldn't take a genius to figure the basics out, and Neville isn't lacking in intelligence.</p><p>'Hi, Nev,' Harry says, rubbing his hands over his face and looking up from where's he sitting cross-legged on his bed.</p><p>'Headmistress McGonagall asked me to tell you that she would like to speak with you, either tonight or tomorrow morning before class, but that it's up to you when you visit and to not feel pressured,' Neville recites dutifully, but his face is creased with worry. 'Are you... alright?' he asks cautiously.</p><p>Harry attempts a crooked smile and mostly succeeds. 'I'm fine,' he says.</p><p>Neville sits down on the side of his own bed and contemplates his words and Harry's response for several seconds. Then he takes a deep breath and says, 'I'm not going to pry, because I hate it when people do that about my parents, and I know you're probably the same. But I just want you to know that being brave doesn't mean being silent. Sometimes it means standing up and saying words that terrify you, but knowing that it's... <em>right</em>. And necessary. And...' Neville wavers before finding the words he's looking for.</p><p>'You're the bravest guy I've ever met, Harry. You always spoke up for me, when I was getting picked on, or when the Death Eaters and Voldemort were back, or when Umbridge tried to shut you up. You... <em>defend</em> people, and I think that's really admirable. But I hope you know that you can also speak up for yourself, and defend yourself, too. Even though it's really hard.'</p><p>Neville swallows nervously and runs his hands down his thighs, and all Harry can see is the nervous little boy, eleven years old and slightly chubby and terrified, being picked on and laughed at and falling off his broom, but still finding the courage to tell the Boy Who Lived and his friends that they couldn't break the rules, and that Neville wouldn't let them. How hard had that been for him? And yet he'd done it anyway.</p><p>
  <em>And now so have I.</em>
</p><p>'Thanks, Nev,' Harry says, and it's earnest and quiet and hot in his chest. His throat is tight, but Harry makes himself catch and hold Neville's gaze.</p><p>Neville nods. 'That's all I wanted to say,' he says, and then he stands back up again. 'I'll give you some space, yeah?'</p><p>And then he leaves, a Herbology textbook tucked under one warm, and a strong, confident set to his shoulders.</p><p><em>He learned to speak,</em> Harry thinks in the silence that follows, spilling back into the room in the wake of Neville's departure.</p><p><em>And I did too. </em> <b> <em>I did too.</em> </b></p><p>He's miserable and wrung out and so, so tired, but in the aftermath of one of the most horrible days of his life, Harry sits on his bed with his head tilted back to stare up into nothingness, and he feels proud.</p><p>It's like being back at the top of the Astronomy Tower, cold and shaking from the wind and the storm of his mind, and rattled through by blind terror, when Snape had hobbled up the stairs and cast a Warming Charm, wiping away the ice all around him and soothing his shivers.</p><p>It's a comfort to something in his soul - but this time Harry has given that peace to himself.</p><p>The quiet seeps from the heavy stone walls all around him, but right now Harry has never felt less trapped. His lips curve just slightly upwards, and his walls fall away just a little bit more, and for the first time he truly believes that things have changed. They are better now.</p><p>And so is he.</p><p>• • • • • •</p><p>Ron is waiting for Harry when he returns from the Headmistress' Office. The message had been fairly simple: Jenkins is now under investigation and has been placed on probation pending the DMLE's findings. Since the wizarding world, like the Muggle world, believes in the concept of the assumption of innocence until proven guilty (or at least, that's how it's <em>supposed</em> to be), Jenkins isn't going to be immediately locked up in Azkaban or lose everything. Despite how much he hates her, Harry agrees with the sentiment.</p><p>McGonagall had admitted that Harry's case is a bit of a precedent and that there aren't a lot of official policies in place to deal with circumstances such as his. The Board of Governors and the DMLE are meeting tomorrow to argue about the whole mess, but for now McGonagall has ordered Jenkins to stay away from Harry and populated areas such as the Great Hall, and shown him a spell that will prevent anyone from coming within two feet of him.</p><p><em>If Jenkins approaches you, Mr Potter, you have my express permission to hex her until her kneecaps are sticking out of her forehead. </em> <em>Is that clear?</em></p><p>Even in the middle of such a grave conversation, McGonagall's stern protectiveness had managed to make Harry's lips twitch.</p><p>
  <em>Yes, Headmistress.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Good. And have another biscuit.</em>
</p><p>Mostly, Harry is just relieved to have the entire thing over and done with. Flopping down onto his bed, he sighs deeply into the mattress and then rolls over to meet Ron's mildly concerned gaze.</p><p>Friends tell each other news and occasional gossip, but best friends tell each other everything, so Harry gives Ron a quick summary of the meeting, if only to calm the redhead's worries. Ron nods in approval of McGonagall's words and grins at the permission to hex a teacher, but mostly he remains silent.</p><p>When Harry has finished, the room sits in a sort of stasis for several minutes before Ron tentatively disrupts it. 'You feeling okay?' he asks, looking slightly uncomfortable but determined to push through it for Harry's sake.</p><p>'Yeah,' Harry sighs, lying down flat on his bed and kicking off his shoes.</p><p>'You... you did well, mate,' Ron says with the kind of nervous awkwardness that reminds Harry of Neville. The kindness and caring is the same, too.</p><p><em>I love my friends,</em> Harry thinks in a moment of startling clarity. <em>My life would be so empty without them.</em></p><p>'Thanks, Ron,' Harry says, and his voice comes out choked with far more emotion than he'd meant it to.</p><p>Ron blinks at him in alarm before seeming to come to some sort of decision. He fidgets and shifts around for a final moment of nervousness and uncertainty, but then he takes a deep breath and holds it. His anxiety bleeds away, and determination replaces it.</p><p>And then he speaks.</p><p>'When I was a kid, we didn't have much,' Ron says suddenly, staring down at his hands where they're clasped on his knees. 'We still don't, really, but it was a lot worse when I was younger. Having seven kids, the oldest going through Hogwarts and needing books and uniforms and brooms and owls... it was all very expensive, and we only had dad's paycheque to go on. And he... doesn't exactly get paid a lot. Well, the promotion helped a bit. But back then... We were stretched pretty thin.' Ron scratches the back of his neck, which has reddened slightly.</p><p>'Most of my clothes were hand-me-downs, sometimes they'd been worn by all of my older brothers... even Ginny got mostly old clothes, although mum did get her a couple of dresses. When money was especially tight, mum would knit all of our clothes because we couldn't afford anything else. It... wasn't ideal, but we made do. There are some great Enlarging and Stretching Charms.' Ron smiles humourlessly.</p><p>'Anyway, I was obsessed with Quidditch, as most wizarding kids are. Charlie and Bill had brooms, and they'd sometimes let the twins on them, and I'd be so jealous... Charlie once flew me round our garden, holding onto me by the waist. It was one of the best days of my life. Quidditch was... it was great. It was like... like an escape.' Ron flushes. 'It didn't matter that we didn't have money, or that my clothes didn't always fit right, or that we were the trash of the pureblood world for being blood traitors. All that mattered was flying. Even though I was pretty rubbish at it, since I never got a turn, I didn't care. I loved it.</p><p>'And then there was this kid - Ryan Connelly. He was from the next town over, and I'd seen him around before, even met him a couple of times at events and things. He got signed to the Chudley Cannons at sixteen. <em>Sixteen! </em>Nobody gets signed at sixteen! At least not unless they're Viktor Krum or Westley Ridgeback! And he was poor, like me, from the same area, and his first name even sounded sort of similar to mine... and I just loved him. I worshipped him. I wanted to <em>be</em> him. Because he - he <em>made</em> it. He was some nobody kid from nowhere, and he made it. And I thought that was the most amazing thing in the world.</p><p>'You have to understand - for somebody who had nothing... it was like a fairytale story. And I thought that I could be like that too. That I'd just get on a broom and fly away from everything, and I'd be rich and famous and popular... didn't work out, of course, and I was crap on a broom, but that didn't matter. It was... the dream, the idea of it. The idea that I could <em>be</em> somebody, even though I was a nobody.'</p><p>'You're not a nobody, Ron,' Harry murmurs.</p><p>'I know that <em>now</em>,' Ron says in weary frustration, running a hand through his hair. 'But when I was ten, and my whole world was Ottery St. Catchpole and the Burrow, and my big brothers were always going to be bigger than me... people always knew Bill's name, and usually Charlie's, too. And everyone always knows the twins. But me? I was... I was easy to forget. I was just another Weasley. And the world already had enough of them.'</p><p>Ron sighs.</p><p>'I met Connelly at one of his pre-match signings, you know. I was... nine or ten, I think. And he bent down and ruffled my hair and gave me a glow in the dark poster... and it was <em>everything</em>. It was better than magic. And then he went out and helped win his match and I just... I wanted that. I looked at him up there and I thought <em>I want to be you</em>.'</p><p>There's a beat of silence.</p><p>'You've made it too,' Harry says softly. 'You know that, right? You've made it, Ron.'</p><p>Ron shrugs. 'Eh. I eventually figured out that fame isn't all it's cracked up to be. I'll admit it might've taken me slightly longer than it should've.' He blushes and looks away.</p><p>'You know I don't blame you for what happened in fourth year, right?' Harry asks hesitantly. 'It's... totally understandable. We were both just kids, and... and we had too much on our shoulders. We're not perfect.'</p><p>'I still shouldn't have been such an arse to you,' Ron says, sighing loudly. 'But thanks. I just... I was just being an idiot, because I couldn't handle yet another person getting my dream. It... urgh, it's so <em>stupid</em>, but... it felt like you were stealing it from me. Even though I know you weren't! But... that's what it felt like.'</p><p>Ron falls silent, his face flushed red.</p><p>'I'm not mad at you or anything,' Harry says hesitantly. 'Friends forgive each other, yeah? It's like you said: not even a Horcrux can keep us apart forever.'</p><p>Ron seems to come back to himself from whatever deep well of thoughts he'd been lost at the bottom of, Harry's words dragging him back into the present. 'Yeah, yeah, I know,' he says slightly distractedly, fiddling with the edge of his blanket. 'Look, the reason I'm telling you all of this is because...' His face burns again, but Ron squares his shoulders and meets Harry's eye with the sort of bold bravery that makes him a lionheart. 'Being friends with you was better than being Ryan Connelly. It... I would burn every broomstick in Britain and never fly again if it meant I got to stay with you.'</p><p>Ron's face darkens ever further and he groans, hiding his head in his hands. 'Bloody <em>hell</em>,' he moans. 'I'm not proposing, I swear. I just - I meant - you - <em>argh</em>! ...Look.' Ron takes a breath. 'Having friends... it's better than flying, yeah? And... you're the best friend I could ever have. So... so I'm glad you went to McGonagall, even though I know it scared the crap out of you and you didn't want to do it. Just... you deserve to have someone fighting in your corner. And you're finally going to get that now.'</p><p>They both sit there, their faces red and eyes averted, for an indeterminate amount of uncomfortably awkward time.</p><p>But Neville learned to speak. And Harry thinks (hopes, believes, maybe even <em>knows</em>) that he did too. So...</p><p>'I'm terrified that I'll never be more than a figurehead to people,' Harry blurts.</p><p>Ron mulls this over in quiet contemplation for a moment. 'You'll always have us,' he promises seriously. 'No matter what, Harry. You'll always have us.'</p><p>Harry's eyes feel hot. He looks away.</p><p>'You were my first friend, you know,' Harry confesses quietly once he can speak again. 'I'd never had anybody before you, except maybe Hagrid, but I barely knew him then. You were a kid my age, and you didn't hate me or judge me for my ugly glasses and baggy clothes, and you actually talked to me and <em>liked</em> me, and... your friendship meant everything to me. You... you were my Ryan Connelly, that day on the train. You sat down opposite me and it was like the whole world opened up, and suddenly I had a friend.'</p><p>Ron stares at him in shock. 'Bloody hell, Harry,' he croaks out eventually.</p><p>Harry laughs a laugh that is far too watery and swipes beneath his eyes. 'We're never talking about feelings again,' he jokes.</p><p>'I knew Hermione was lying to us when she said feelings wouldn't hurt us,' Ron agrees roughly. He wipes his cheeks with the palms of his hands. 'Bloody hell.'</p><p>They lay in silence for a while, both lost in their own thoughts.</p><p>'I have a temper, don't I?' Harry breaks the silence eventually.</p><p>'...A bit, yeah,' Ron admits. 'So do I, though,' he adds reassuringly. 'Even Hermione's got a bit of one. Anyone who says she doesn't hasn't seen her when somebody mentions House Elves, or folds the corner of a book page...'</p><p>Harry smiles weakly, but it doesn't last. 'That terrifies me,' he admits in a rough whisper.</p><p>'...Hermione on a rampage? I mean, fair enough, but I don't think she'll do anything <em>that</em> bad... Unless you've done something to House Elves or the library you want to tell me about.'</p><p>'No,' Harry huffs a short laugh that dies quickly. 'I meant... my temper.'</p><p>Ron doesn't say anything, so Harry continues in a nervous rush.</p><p>'I don't know if wizards use it, but Muggles have this saying, "<em>the apple doesn't fall far from the tree</em>". Muggle scientists have this theory that kids grow up to be like their parents - or in my case, like the people who raised them. That we pick up little habits and personality traits and things, and we never realise it. Even things about our parents or guardians that we don't like - we inherit them too. And...'</p><p>Harry shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath.</p><p>'Someone joked once that I got my mum's temper,' he says in a rushed whisper, 'but I've never met her. And sometimes... sometimes I think I got it from my uncle. He's... he's absolutely awful, and he yells and swears a lot, and when he gets really mad he-'</p><p>Harry cuts off. He doesn't finish what he was saying.</p><p>Ron doesn't respond for several seconds, but he does roll over onto his side and prop himself up on his elbows, staring through the dim darkness at Harry in open, honest concern.</p><p>'You're nothing like him, Harry,' Ron swears fervently, and Harry feels a bolt of something hot and fierce burst in his chest, spilling down into his gut and trickling into the gaps between his lungs. Ron sits up completely, looking worried and earnest.</p><p>'Honestly,' Ron continues, 'I wouldn't lie to you, not after all of this.' He looks Harry directly in the eye. 'You're a good person, Harry,' he promises. 'You're nothing like the Dursleys.'</p><p>Harry breath leaves him in a crushed exhale, like he's just been punched, and to his absolute mortification he makes a tiny, pained sound on his next inhale. He scrambles around on his bed, turning away from Ron to hide his reaction as his face scrunches up and his eyes well with tears.</p><p>It's shameful and embarrassing and when he feels Ron's tentative, gentle hand on his shoulder, it's humiliating - but Ron doesn't say anything. Instead, the second he realises Harry is crying, Ron pulls him into a fierce hug, wrapping him up in strong arms and soft, careful words whispered forcefully into his hair, as if Ron can make them true simply by willing it.</p><p>'You're nothing like them Harry, I promise. You're so much better - you're kind and funny and brave and even smart when you put your head to it, and you're absolutely ace on a broom, and McGonagall's probably secretly in love with you, and-'</p><p>Harry lets out a choked laugh, hiccoughing and swiping away more tears when they keep falling. Ron squeezes him tighter and doesn't let go, even when his pyjama top gets damp and Harry begins shaking with suppressed sobs.</p><p>An impossibly long time later, once Harry has cried himself raw on Ron's shoulder, he finally speaks.</p><p>'I don't want to be them,' Harry chokes out, his voice hoarse and thick.</p><p>'Good thing you're not, then,' Ron says immediately, still holding onto him just as tightly, as if he'll never let Harry go. 'You're worth a million of them, Harry. And anyone who says otherwise has got a brain like a shrivelfig.'</p><p>Harry smiles faintly. 'Hermione would be proud of your Herbology knowledge,' he says teasingly, his voice coming out strained and cracked.</p><p>Ron smiles as buoyantly as he can. 'Hermione won't know what hit her when I show off my extensive knowledge of Australian shrivelfigs,' Ron declares heartily.</p><p>'...Don't you mean Abyssinian shrivelfigs?'</p><p>'...Them too.'</p><p>Harry laughs, wiping at his face with the tissue Ron silently hands him. 'Thanks,' he says quietly.</p><p>'No problem, mate,' Ron says reassuringly. 'You can have my shoulder anytime. It's all yours.' He pauses, dropping his light-hearted tone. 'And Harry... you know you're a good guy, right? I wouldn't be mates with you if you weren't.'</p><p>'...Thanks,' Harry repeats in a whisper.</p><p>Ron takes a moment to collect his thoughts before he speaks again. 'You know, what you said about the apple not falling far from the tree... you don't have to worry about that, Harry, because you're more than them. You're more than whatever they did to you. Yeah, okay, maybe your apple fell down and landed beside their shitty tree. But so what? Maybe your apple's on a hill! And it can roll away from their sad, bald little twig of a tree, and find a different tree - a whole <em>forest</em> - to be a part of.</p><p>'Or - or maybe look at it this way: yeah, your apple fell down beside the twisted old Dursley tree. But then we came along and picked you up, and we took you beyond their hateful little world, and we brought you someplace new. And now you have the chance to plant your owns roots, and grow into a whole new person of your own, and you're totally free from their influence. You don't have to sit in their shadow anymore, because you're with us now instead.</p><p>'You've said it yourself - the Dursleys aren't your family, <em>we are</em>. And we'll make sure that your apple is tucked up right beside our apples and trees - or even up in the branches with the rest of us! And we'll make sure that you never turn out like the Dursleys. Okay?'</p><p>Harry buries his dried, reddened face in the crook of Ron's shoulder and doesn't respond for several minutes.</p><p>'You're the best,' he says eventually, wrapping his arms around Ron in a tight hug. Ron responds without hesitation, patting him gently on the back.</p><p>'I know,' Ron says seriously. 'It's just a fact of life, mate.' He glances down at Harry. 'You okay?'</p><p>Harry nods tiredly. 'Yeah, I'm just...'</p><p>'Yeah,' Ron says.</p><p>Harry offers up a mostly-successful attempt at a smile. "S'not all bad though,' he says with quiet cheer. 'I get to be a Weasley tree.'</p><p>Ron nods firmly, in both agreement and approval. 'It's the best kind of tree there is,' he says wisely. Harry thinks he's right.</p><p>Harry eventually disentangles himself from Ron, who stands up and begins to make his way back to his own bed. He stops halfway though, and turns back around to face Harry.</p><p>'You get to choose, Harry,' he says seriously. 'It's up to you what kind of tree or person or figurehead you want to be. If you don't want to have a temper, then we can work on that. You can get better.' Ron takes a deep breath and then lets it out. 'People change. I did, you did, we all did. Even Percy and Snape. So I don't see any reason why you can't change this too, with the right help.'</p><p>Harry smiles gratefully at him, and pretends it doesn't wobble. 'Thanks, Ron,' he mumbles, pulling his blankets tight around him.</p><p>'No problem. And for the record,' Ron adds as he climbs into bed and pulls his own blankets up around his shoulders, 'I think you're a pretty great tree already.'</p><p>Harry smiles faintly. 'You too,' he says, and means it. 'We both made it,' he says sincerely, and Ron gets what he means. <em>We both became someone. Someone to be proud of.</em></p><p>
  <em>We both got on a broom and learned to fly. Even if we did it in different ways.</em>
</p><p>'Ryan Connelly can eat his heart out,' Ron agrees cheerfully, and with one last lighthearted laugh, Harry lies down without anything weighing him down, and eventually drifts off into a dreamless sleep.</p><p>• • • • • •</p><p>The next morning, Harry's fragile peace falls apart.</p><p>He has been given permission by McGonagall not to attend the morning's Defence Against the Dark Arts class (which is how Harry knows that she is worried about him, because not even getting poisoned and nearly killed was deemed a sufficient excuse to miss a class, the way Katie Bell tells it) and since the teacher will be a substitute, Harry decides it's not worth going.</p><p>Hermione, however, has other ideas.</p><p>'If you just sit up here in the Tower by yourself, you'll be fretting and worrying and overthinking,' she says firmly as she scoops up Harry's outer robe from where it's lying over the back of a chair and shoves it at him. 'Class will be a good distraction for you, and we might even learn something. A substitute teacher isn't necessarily a <em>bad</em> teacher.'</p><p>Hermione gives him an expectant look, and Harry sighs.</p><p>The thing is - she's right (...again). Harry is already slightly apprehensive about the meeting he knows is taking place this morning between the Headmistress, the Board of Governors and quite possibly the DMLE. They'll be deciding Jenkins' fate, but they'll also be deciding <em>Harry's</em>. If they don't believe him... if they call him a liar again... if he has to go back to a classroom run by Jenkins...</p><p>He doesn't know what he'll do. Refuse to go to class, maybe.</p><p>(Harry really, <em>really</em> doesn't want to have to think about that.)</p><p>'Come on,' Hermione says encouragingly, tilting her head towards the door. 'It won't do you any good to sit up here and brew yourself a little thunderstorm. And NEWTs wait for no one!'</p><p>Harry snorts and reluctantly follows her to DADA class.</p><p>Jenkins, of course, is absent from the classroom - but as it turns out, there isn't anyone to substitute for her. Professor McGonagall has left a note on the board stating that Jenkins is "unavailable" and asking the class to read their textbooks or finish any outstanding homework.</p><p>Some students are delighted. Others, like Hermione, are rather disgruntled.</p><p>'It's our final NEWT year,' Goldstein says irritably - and rather loudly - after he's finished reading McGonagall's message on the board. 'First we miss several Potions classes, and now this?' He gestures dramatically at the front of the room as if he's never been so disappointed and discriminated against in his entire life until right this very moment.</p><p>'What happened to Professor Snape wasn't his fault,' Zabini says sharply, looking ready to leap to his Head of House's defence.</p><p>Goldstein rolls his eyes. 'He's still had an undeniably negative effect on our education. If he isn't in a position to teach, perhaps he should step down and allow someone else to fill the role.'</p><p>Zabini's hands clench into fists. 'Perhaps <em>you</em> should step out of this classroom, since you're having a negative effect on my everything.'</p><p>Goldstein glares at him, and Harry instinctively waits for the round of jeers and taunts from the Slytherin students. But they don't come.</p><p>And then he realises that Zabini is the only one.</p><p>No, that's not quite true - there are other Slytherin students in the room. But they're all seventh years. Zabini is the only eighth year Slytherin in the NEWT Defence class, and nobody is willing to back him up. Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Nott, Parkinson, Bulstrode... they're all gone.</p><p>The realisation strikes Harry out of nowhere, leaving him reeling. He hadn't realised that the Gryffindor eighth year boys' dorm is actually... <em>lucky</em>. It's half-filled. By Slytherin standards, it's practically <em>packed</em>.</p><p>Zabini... Zabini is utterly alone.</p><p>'It's selfish of Snape to continue in the Potions Professor role when he can't consistently turn up for class,' Goldstein announces, and Zabini's eyes glitter dangerously.</p><p>'Oh yeah?' Zabini challenges, slowly rising out of his seat. Goldstein immediately shoots out of his chair in response. 'And would you still think that about him if he was more <em>Hufflepuff</em>? Do you only like people when they're perfect and Light and never disagree with you?' He tilts his head to one side in mocking consideration. 'You know, rumour has it that old McGonagall's heart hasn't been the same ever since she got blasted by Umbridge. Maybe we should just clear out all the old, useless stragglers, hm?'</p><p>'Headmistress McGonagall isn't useless!' Goldstein snaps, pointing his wand at Zabini. 'Take that back!'</p><p>'I will, right after you've stopped criticising Professor Snape for something as ridiculous as his own ill health,' Zabini shoots back venomously.</p><p>The Slytherin seventh years glance between Zabini and Goldstein anxiously. A few look ready to passionately agree with Zabini, but... none of them do. They're too afraid.</p><p>'We don't want a fight,' Harry interrupts firmly when Goldstein scowls and opens his mouth to voice what is no doubt a very well thought out and intellectual argument with no bias or goading whatsoever. 'Put your wand away, Goldstein.'</p><p>'Who put <em>you</em> in charge?' Goldstein demands angrily, his cheeks flushing red in embarrassment.</p><p>Harry, who has risen out of his chair, is quickly joined by Ron, who crosses his arms and gives Goldstein an unimpressed glare.</p><p>'If you have to draw your wand in an argument, you're losing, mate,' Ron says flatly.</p><p>Goldstein seems torn between arguing with them and relenting. He stands there, flushed and struggling, for several seconds of tense silence before he blurts, 'I can't believe you're siding with <em>them</em>!' and gives Harry an accusatory look.</p><p>If the weeks of Festival harassment have been good for anything except the profit margins of post owl and parchment companies, it's that they've taught Harry a new form of patience. It's McGonagall's "Rise Above and Be Better" mantra combined with the painfully learned lessons from recurring hallway incidents where Harry has been forced to keep his cool when all he wants to do is scream.</p><p>Granted, he isn't exactly the <em>best</em> at keeping calm, but he's at least gotten <em>better</em>. For the very first time, he's grateful for the brutal repetition of <em>"Hi Harry, my name is..."</em> that he's been subjected to for the past month, because it means he doesn't immediately fly off the handle and start yelling as he was prone to do before.</p><p>(Reaching the end of the hormonal hellhole that is puberty has probably also contributed to Harry's new <em>State of Peace and Bliss and Very Much Calm</em>-ness, but Harry likes to think his experience and conscious efforts to be better and more in control have helped.)</p><p>It's a very thin silver lining, but Harry will take it.</p><p>'"Them"?' Harry repeats. 'Who is "them"?'</p><p>Goldstein waves a hand at the cluster of Slytherin students and Zabini, the latter of whom scowls. 'The Slytherins! The Dark!'</p><p>Harry slowly raises an eyebrow. 'I didn't realise all Slytherins are automatically Dark,' he says flatly, 'but even if they were, that doesn't automatically make them evil. And it doesn't automatically make them wrong, either.'</p><p>Goldstein gapes at him. So does Zabini, amusingly enough, although at least he schools the most incredulous aspects of his expression when Harry glances at him.</p><p>'You Know Who was Dark! Everyone knows Dark wizards use horrible spells that drive them crazy!' Goldstein exclaims, indignant.</p><p>'I've used Dark spells,' Harry says calmly, causing the classroom to hush and fall into a shocked silence. Everyone is staring now. 'Do you think I'm evil or crazy?'</p><p>'No - but you're different! You... you're good! You fought You Know Who!'</p><p>'There's a difference between a Dark spell and an illegal spell, Goldstein. Dark spells can save lives. They can also destroy them. But the same applies to magic in general, and even people. You...' Harry struggles for a moment to express what Hermione had so accurately and elegantly said the night they'd discussed Snape. She had made it seem so simple and easy at the time, but trying to word the concept correctly in front of a room of staring people is unexpectedly hard and stressful.</p><p>But Harry's done harder things than this. And he succeeded at a lot of those. Anthony Goldstein is <em>not</em> going to be the undoing of Harry Damn Potter.</p><p>(Harry can <em>speak</em>, now.)</p><p>'Putting labels on people and judging everything about them based on that one word is exactly what Voldemort and his Death Eaters did. It's stupid and dangerous and wrong. Not even just wrong morally, but wrong as in <em>you are literally factually wrong in your judgements</em>. You're making assumptions, and if you've been paying any attention at all to Snape's lessons, you'll know how moronic making lots of assumptions is.'</p><p>Harry meets the riled gaze of the Ravenclaw in front of him unflinchingly. 'Would you really rather be wrong? Just so you can paint your world black and white?'</p><p>Goldstein's cheeks darken. 'I'm not wrong about You Know Who. And I'm not wrong about <em>them</em>. There's a reason most of them didn't come back, you know. Malfoy, Nott, Goyle - Death Eaters, every last one. And now they've run off to mainland Europe to hide from what they've done, like <em>cowards</em>.'</p><p>'Their <em>parents</em> were Death Eaters,' Harry corrects evenly. 'That doesn't automatically-'</p><p>'And they were being raised up to be the next generation,' Goldstein interrupts. 'You can't honestly tell me that Draco Malfoy wasn't just as much of a supremacist prat as the rest of them, Potter!'</p><p>Harry sighs. No, he can't say that Malfoy wasn't a Death Eater, because the fact of the matter is that he was Marked. Sure, he'd seemed to regret it at times, and even saved Harry's life - but even during the Battle of Hogwarts, Malfoy had still been on Voldemort's side.</p><p>'You're right,' Harry says quietly, remaining unfazed at the surprise and triumph that flashes across Goldstein's face. 'Malfoy was raised to be a Death Eater just like his father, and so was Crabbe and probably the others, too.' Harry holds Goldstein's gaze with steady determination. 'But there's one small problem with your argument. If all the mini Death Eaters ran off with their Death Eater mummies and daddies to France and Bulgaria... doesn't that mean that the Slytherins that are left are the <em>good</em> ones?'</p><p>Goldstein falters.</p><p>'If Zabini was a Dark, murderous Death Eater casting awful magic and slowly driving himself insane... don't you think he'd have fled by now?' Harry continues, pressing his advantage whilst he still has it. 'You can't tell me that <em>all</em> Slytherins are evil. That's utterly ridiculous and makes no sense. Slughorn never seemed to be plotting world domination in between club meetings and the odd whiskey. And I've had Gryffindors and Ravenclaws try to kill me, too.</p><p>'The world isn't divided into good people and Death Eaters, Goldstein,' Harry says sternly, and tries not to let the sudden ache in his chest overwhelm him with grief and loss and that part of him that will always, always miss Sirius, and what they could've been. <em>Family</em>.</p><p>There is a ringing silence after Harry has let his last words fall, and he stands there, surrounded by an audience, and waits for Goldstein to make the next move.</p><p>But it's not Goldstein who breaks the silence.</p><p>'Regardless of the morality of Dark magic and whether House affiliation indicates anything at all reliable about character - which it <em>doesn't</em>, in my opinion - I think we should be treating Professor Snape with <em>compassion</em> rather than immediate condemnation,' Hermione announces, remaining in her seat despite all the standing boys around her. She looks utterly unimpressed with all of them. 'I don't remember you having a problem with Professor Lupin in our third year, Goldstein, and he missed a class every month because of his lycanthropy.'</p><p>'That was third year. This is our <em>NEWT</em> year,' Goldstein mutters sullenly, but he's gone spectacularly red all of a sudden and can't meet Hermione's eye.</p><p>'It's also only a month into first term,' Hermione says briskly. 'Even I can admit that this doesn't quite qualify as an immediate and life-threatening emergency.'</p><p>Ron snorts.</p><p>'Furthermore,' Hermione continues primly, 'you're looking at this from the completely wrong angle. You can't identify a potential problem and then just complain about it until it goes away. What you <em>should</em> be doing is searching for a solution.'</p><p>'Like what?' a seventh year Hufflepuff challenges when nobody speaks. Goldstein is staring at his shoes; all the fight seems to have drained right out of him.</p><p>'It's not like we can just demand that Jenkins comes back and teaches us,' Zacharias Smith adds pointedly, backing up his Housemate. 'And textbooks aren't <em>nearly</em> as good as in-class practice.'</p><p>Hermione doesn't deign to gift them with a response. Instead, she simply turns in her seat and looks at Harry expectantly.</p><p>It takes him several seconds to catch on to what she's suggesting. 'Oh, no, no way,' he says immediately. 'I haven't planned anything!'</p><p>'You don't need to,' Hermione counters. 'You have the practical knowledge, and that's what matters most.'</p><p>'You mean you want <em>Potter</em> to teach us?' Zabini demands, having caught on to what Hermione is implying.</p><p>'He taught a class in fifth year,' Ron retorts instantly. 'There were loads of us. We even learned the Patronus.'</p><p>Several students perk up. Harry wants to groan.</p><p>'Hermione, you cannot be serious,' he mutters under his breath. 'Why don't <em>you</em> just teach them?'</p><p>Hermione's cheeks turn a faint pink. 'I'm too bossy,' she admits, looking slightly shamefaced. 'And I'd probably talk too much and too fast and bore everyone to death with the minutiae. You're <em>good</em> at teaching, Harry, and you've got loads of experience. Why don't you give it a go?'</p><p><em>Because it'll go horribly,</em> Harry thinks immediately, and ignores the little voice in his head that wants to try anyway. 'We made proper lesson plans last time!' he protests.</p><p>'We can make a plan for next time,' Hermione says dismissively.</p><p><em>'Next time!?'</em> Harry blurts in horror.</p><p>Ron, meanwhile, is busying arguing with... well, everyone, apparently.</p><p>'So Potter runs a little Defence club and now you think he's suddenly a qualified teacher?' a particularly daring seventh year Slytherin challenges.</p><p>'We had weekly lessons that were all practical-based to make up for Umbridge's shit teaching,' Ron defends. 'And we hid the whole thing under her nose, too.'</p><p>'<em>I</em> never heard anything about it,' Zabini says pointedly.</p><p>'That's because <em>you</em> weren't invited,' Goldstein says in a smug, superior tone. 'See!' he cries victoriously, turning to Ron as if awaiting his agreement. 'This proves my point! Potter knew we couldn't trust the Slytherins with the DA! There's a <em>reason</em> none of them were ever invited!'</p><p>'We were ratted out by a <em>Ravenclaw</em>, you daft git,' Ron retorts irritably. 'And we didn't invite the entirety of Gryffindor, either. We only brought people we knew, and that we could definitely trust. If we'd had close friends or family in Slytherin, they'd have been invited too.'</p><p>'I think Harry should teach us,' Neville declares from the back of the classroom where he's been sitting silently up until now. 'I learned a lot from him in fifth year and I trust him to do a good job.'</p><p>Harry immediately blushes bright red. He can <em>feel</em> the heat coming off his own cheeks.</p><p>'Thanks, Nev,' Ron says gratefully, nodding at their Housemate.</p><p>'I agree, I wouldn't be able to cast a Patronus without Harry,' Terry Boot chips in.</p><p>'And we learned proper Shielding, too!' Michael Corner adds.</p><p>'And <em>Expelliarmus</em>!' Hannah Abbott says, and giggles.</p><p>'It's a useful spell,' Harry defends immediately. 'If you can disarm your opponent then you immediately significantly reduce their spell repertoire, or even eliminate their use of magic altogether and win the fight by default...'</p><p>He trails off when he realises that he's begun to lecture, and that... everyone is listening.</p><p>His cheeks heat again. Embarrassed, Harry turns and begins to sit down again, but before his backside has even brushed the seat of his chair, he is stopped by the sound of Zabini's voice.</p><p>'Fine,' Zabini says, his arms crossed and a hard, almost defiant look in his eyes. 'Let's see what you're made of then, Potter. And this time, <em>everyone</em> gets invited.'</p><p>Every single person in the room is looking at Harry expectantly. Some with excitement or acceptance - mostly the old DA members -; others with curiosity or even mild scepticism. The Slytherins seem torn between immediate disapproval and eager inquisitiveness.</p><p>'Well go on then,' Goldstein says after a moment of silence, looking both annoyed and impatient. And perhaps even... keen.</p><p>Harry swallows. Right then.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Other people: is Dumbledore ultimately a good or bad man? Can Snape be redeemed? How do Horcruxes work? Was Tom born evil or was he raised that way?</p><p>Me: Sooooo why does Ron support the Chudley Cannons?</p><p>Asking the real questions here, folks.</p><p>Absolutely nobody wanted to know, but I have answered that not-burning question anyway. You're welcome.</p><p>:)))))))))))))</p><p> </p><p>  <b>Btw I don't have the time to reply to comments right now, but I read every single one and they mean the world to me! Every time I get an email notification from AO3 I smile, it's honestly lovely. So thank you for all of the support, and just know that I am reading what you guys say!</b></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Light Between the Cracks</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>T Swizzle casually dropped another album and I was not ready</p>
<p>So here is me dropping another chappie after months of silence. My bad!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>'Right,' Harry says, and swallows nervously. He walks hesitantly up to the front of the class, taking steadying breaths as well as he can, and then says again, 'Right.'</p>
<p>'Any time this year, Potter,' Zacharias Smith drawls.</p>
<p>'Smith, shut your fat gob before I do it for you,' Ron says matter-of-factly without even taking his eyes off Harry. When Harry glances at him, Ron gives him an encouraging grin and a subtle thumbs up.</p>
<p>Harry almost laughs.</p>
<p>'Er, right. I think that today we should focus on casting time and accuracy,' Harry says, trying not to sound anxious. His eyes dart around the classroom, but when nobody immediately begins to protest or sneer, he takes another deep breath and resumes his hastily slapped together lesson plan.</p>
<p>'Alright, if everyone could stand up and put their bags against the wall, we can move the desks and chairs out of the way...'</p>
<p>To Harry's amazement, his classmates actually comply. He tries not to look as baffled and amazed as he feels when even the Slytherin students do what he asks with little complaint. Sure, one or two look supremely unconvinced by the entire spectacle that is Harry attempting to teach a NEWT Defence class, but they nevertheless go along with everyone else, moving desks and then huddling uncertainly in the middle of the empty floor.</p>
<p>'Good. Thanks. Er, right, if everyone could stand on the left side of the room...' Harry waves a hand nervously, and tries not to show his relief when they all obey his request without complaint. He turns determinedly to face the right wall of the classroom, which is mostly blank, and absently flicks his wand to move the lone portrait that hangs there. The occupant of the painting seems greatly entertained by this, and thankfully doesn't begin cursing Harry out.</p>
<p>'What are you doing?' Zabini asks when Harry begins flicking his wand at the wall and muttering under his breath.</p>
<p>'I'm Shielding the wall so that you can cast at it,' Harry answers, sending a powerful Shield Charm flying towards the stone wall.</p>
<p>'Individually?' Zabini asks critically.</p>
<p>'No, all together,' Harry replies absent-mindedly. He's too busy focusing on what he wants to achieve - <em>focus, will, intent</em> - to give his full concentration to the conversation.</p>
<p>There's a momentary silence, and then Zabini protests, 'We'll break the Shield!' He seems to think Harry has gone mad.</p>
<p>'I'll hold it,' Harry assures him distractedly, casting one last spell before turning back to the class.</p>
<p>Zabini's eyebrows are halfway up his forehead, Goldstein looks flabbergasted and Ron is grinning again.</p>
<p>'What?' Harry asks.</p>
<p>'You can't just hold a Shield for an hour!' Zabini contends. 'Not when we're all casting at it! It'll break!'</p>
<p>Harry shakes his head, glad that the protest is something he can resolve easily. 'I'm stronger at defensive spells, so I'll be able to make sure it holds.'</p>
<p>'What Harry means to say,' Hermione interjects, sounding a little proud and smug, 'is that he has something of a speciality for defensive and protective spells. He's brilliant at Shields.'</p>
<p>Ron nods enthusiastically.</p>
<p>Harry's entire face turns bright red. 'Er. Right. Thanks. Um. So what I want you all to do is cast at the wall as quickly as you can. Use a spell that comes easily to you - something simple like a Stunner or Disarming Charm. Don't choose anything overly complicated or difficult; that's not the point. Instead try to focus on your casting time. The faster you can throw spells, the harder you will be to defeat in a duel, and the more you'll be able to overwhelm your opponent.'</p>
<p>There's a moment of uncertain silence, and then Terry Boot says cheerfully, 'Okay!'</p>
<p>'What about knock back?' Zabini asks. 'The Shield will send spells bouncing back at us if it's as strong as you say it is.'</p>
<p>Harry shakes his head again. 'I'll make sure it absorbs all of the spells. Although...' He raises his wand and casts twice over the entire group of students, protecting their side of the classroom. 'There. That One Way Shield will stop any stray spells from hitting you.' Harry absently casts another couple of spells to protect the rest of the room, including the door and the teacher's desk, and then the ceiling, just to be safe.</p>
<p>He turns back to the class, who are all staring at him.</p>
<p>'Er,' Harry says. 'Well... off you go then.'</p>
<p>There's a beat of silence where no one moves or says anything. Then Neville steps forwards boldly, raises his wand and confidently casts, <em>'Stupefy!'</em></p>
<p>A large bolt of scarlet shoots from the end of his wand and splashes with a flare of light against Harry's Shield on the opposite wall. Everyone waits for a moment, watching to see if the Shield will hold, but it remains erected and faintly shimmering, and the wall stands strong and undamaged.</p>
<p>'Well done, Nev,' Harry says, but what he really means is <em>thank you</em>. Neville smiles at him. 'Although you should try to cast non-verbally; the more practice you get, the better you'll be when it comes to the end of year exams.'</p>
<p>Zabini steps forwards the second Harry has stopped talking, and he looks determined and slightly curious, almost as if he is taking this as some sort of challenge. For who, Harry has no idea.</p>
<p>Without a word passing his lips, Zabini fires five consecutive Stunners at the wall. His eyes are locked onto the spot he hit - almost the same place every time, which is impressive precision - and he seems to be testing Harry's spellwork.</p>
<p>The Shield holds.</p>
<p>The flares of red light fade away as the Stunners are all absorbed easily into Harry's Shield. Zabini lifts his eyebrows slightly, tipping his head back a fraction before he nods with what seems to be... <em>approval</em>?</p>
<p>'Seems you were right, Potter,' Zabini says evenly, and it's not really a compliment or an apology for doubting him, but Harry smiles anyway.</p>
<p>The rest of the students seem to gain enough confidence and reassurance from Neville and Zabini to step forwards, and soon they've spread out into a line, all firing spells at the wall as quickly as they can.</p>
<p>Relief rushes through Harry, but he tries not to show it.</p>
<p>It doesn't take long for Harry to spot weaknesses in most of the students' performance. He hesitates for a moment, uncertain if his suggestions will be welcome - but he'd given specific, individual feedback during DA meetings, which always seemed to be more effective than generalised reminders to the group. Holding tight to his courage, Harry firmly decides to treat this like just another DA meeting and steps away from the front of the classroom, walking behind the line of his casting classmates and halting at the shoulder of the first seriously struggling student.</p>
<p>'How are you getting on?' Harry asks gently over the noise of spells rushing through the air and crashing into his Shield. Light chatter is also mixing between students as they laugh, talk and compete with each other.</p>
<p>The girl Harry has approached is a seventh year Hufflepuff, and she flushes heavily when she turns around and realises Harry has stopped behind her. She glances back at the Shielded wall, and then at her wand, before finally lifting her eyes to Harry's and shamefacedly admitting, 'Um... I'm... not that good.'</p>
<p>'What in particular is giving you issues? Is it the silent casting?' Harry asks as quietly and considerately as he can.</p>
<p>The Hufflepuff blushes again and then nods, looking thoroughly embarrassed.</p>
<p>'Don't worry, everyone always finds silent casting difficult. It just takes time and lots of practice. Have you been using it outside of class? I didn't really start to improve until I began trying to silently cast every time I used a spell. It's tricky, but it pays off.'</p>
<p>The girl, thankfully - Harry thinks her name might be Anna Eldrik - is willing to take Harry's advice, as is the next student, a seventh year Ravenclaw who keeps choosing spells with far too many syllables.</p>
<p>'Maybe try something shorter - like <em>Stupefy</em>,' Harry suggests with a hopeful smile, and sighs with relief when the boy actually does.</p>
<p>The next student he stops behind is a Slytherin. Harry hesitates for a moment, wavering, and then quietly clears his throat.</p>
<p>'Ah, Zabini...' he says uncertainly, and suppresses a wince when the boy turns around and gives him a challenging look. Harry takes a moment to steel himself before he continues. 'You're doing well, but you might want to try using more tight and controlled wand movements. If you're too wide and flashy, you risk weakening your accuracy and precision.'</p>
<p>'I'm already a good shot, Potter,' Zabini says defensively. 'I can hit a target.'</p>
<p>'I know,' Harry replies immediately, trying to sound reassuring. He doesn't want to start a fight. 'I saw that earlier. But... everything can be improved, yeah?'</p>
<p>'Even you?' Zabini challenges.</p>
<p>'Of course,' Harry responds, slightly baffled. He'd thought that much was obvious. Do people really think that he has such a high opinion of himself, he can no longer see his own flaws?</p>
<p>Zabini narrows his eyes for a moment, but then he reluctantly turns back to the wall and fires off another string of Stunners - but this time he takes care to keep his wrist movements more restricted and less showy.</p>
<p>He nails the same spot on the Shield almost flawlessly.</p>
<p>Zabini stares at the place he just struck repeatedly, looking slightly taken aback. When he glances at Harry, his expression smooths out again, but he does incline his head in a shallow nod - an acknowledgement of Harry's credibility.</p>
<p>Harry grins when Zabini has turned back around and walks off without a word.</p>
<p>The lesson continues like that, with Harry strolling up and down, suggesting corrections to students and occasionally demonstrating a better wand movement or body posture. He periodically strengthens his Shields, particularly the one stretched across the far wall, but the spells always hold and don't break or even crack once.</p>
<p>(He might be a little bit inordinately proud of that.)</p>
<p>After twenty minutes of casting practice, most students are beginning to wane, and Harry remembers how exhausting he found his own first time at continuous spell casting with Snape. He calls them to a halt, and gives some general praise - trying not to sound like he's reaching above his station and attempting to play Professor - before deciding to move on.</p>
<p>Initially he'd wanted to try some paired duelling, but the classroom is rather crowded with the larger class size - thanks to the combination of seventh and eighth years - and the last thing Harry wants is someone getting injured, or blowing up a desk. When he quickly explains his reasoning, Hermione is quick to offer a "solution".</p>
<p>'We can go somewhere else next time,' she says cheerfully, giving him a bright, sly smile, and Harry gives her a flat look in return.</p>
<p>'I was thinking that we'd practice the Patronus instead,' Harry says, and gets a mixed response.</p>
<p>Students that have been struggling to learn the spell in Charms class with Flitwick are happy enough - but students that have already mastered it aren't so pleased.</p>
<p>'What if we already know it?' Zabini asks, sounding unimpressed and a bit put out. Harry reminds himself not to take it personally - the Slytherin's hackles are probably still up from his earlier spat with Goldstein.</p>
<p>'How far have you gotten?' Harry asks. In response, Zabini raises his wand and casts, <em>'Expecto patronum!'</em> A sleek, slim snake bursts from the end of his wand and trails through the air, bright white and brilliant. Zabini smiles slightly when his Patronus circles around him, looking proud of himself.</p>
<p>'That's great,' Harry says honestly. 'What about a Patronus Shield?'</p>
<p>'What?' Zabini asks, tearing his gaze away from admiring his Patronus to focus on Harry.</p>
<p>'You mean the white glowy mist? But that only happens when you don't cast the spell properly! It's a <em>failed</em> Patronus!' Smith protests indignantly.</p>
<p>'No,' Harry says as patiently as he can. 'I mean creating a series of expanding domes around yourself to drive Dementors away.'</p>
<p>The entire class looks baffled - even Hermione is frowning slightly.</p>
<p>'Are you talking about what you did in third year?' Hermione asks hesitantly when Harry meets her gaze. 'I... don't think that's normal, Harry. We probably can't do it.'</p>
<p>'If I can do it, anyone can,' Harry says stubbornly. 'How will you know until you try?'</p>
<p>'What are you talking about?' Boot asks, sounding excited.</p>
<p>'It's possible to create massive Shields instead of the regular corporeal Patronus,' Harry explains, gesturing above his head and attempting to recreate the shape with his hands. 'Like... massive curved domes that spread outwards.'</p>
<p>Boot's eyebrows rise. 'I've never seen that mentioned in any textbooks,' he says slowly. He's questioning, not criticising, but it makes Harry slightly nervous anyway. What if they don't believe him...?</p>
<p>Well he'll just have to show them, then.</p>
<p>But before he can, Hermione speaks again. 'Most wizards find casting a Patronus difficult. This is... well...'</p>
<p>'Impossible?' Zabini asks sarcastically.</p>
<p>'If Harry says we can do it, I think we should at least try,' Neville says firmly, lifting his chin up and radiating a slightly defiant air. 'Why don't you show us, Harry?'</p>
<p>Harry swallows and then nods. 'Right... give me a second...' He squeezes his eyes shut and grips his wand firmly, trying to recreate the mindset that he'd been in all those years ago, when Sirius was lying sprawled on the stony ground beside him, and suddenly <em>from between his parted lips there rose a small, glowing ball of light, like a Lumos the colour of a Patronus... his soul... and the Dementor leaned down and -</em></p>
<p>'What's taking so long?' Smith demands impatiently, and then makes a small <em>oof</em> sound that makes Harry suspect Ron hit him. The fact that Ron's voice follows this up with a blunt, 'Harry knows what he's doing, you fat-headed pillock.' only furthers Harry's suspicions.</p>
<p>Maybe Harry shouldn't have impulsively decided to demonstrate a spell he's only actually cast once in front of a room full of his classmates. Yes, this was a terrible decision, and he regrets it already... if he can't cast it, he'll only be humiliated... perhaps it had only worked in the spur of the moment... or because he'd known that he'd cast it before...</p>
<p>But that still applies, Harry thinks forcefully. He <em>knows</em> that he's already cast this before - and at <em>thirteen</em>, no less - and if he can do it once, whilst Dementors descended on him from every angle and sucked at his soul, then surely he can do it again, here, in this bright, safe classroom.</p>
<p>Unwittingly, the image of Snape springs into Harry's mind. He imagines what the man would stay if he was standing before Harry now, watching him as if this were just another tutoring session; pictures the long, billowing black robes, the crossed arms and raised, slightly pointed eyebrow... the thin, black cane and thinner black wand, both as hard and unyielding as their owner. And suddenly Harry knows what he'd say, if he were here - can imagine all too well the flat look and drawling words...</p>
<p>
  <em>Really, Potter? Have I not hammered it through your thick skull yet? You do not need the words or the Dementors or anything else except yourself and your magic and your WILL! Your will, you dim-witted twit - have I not told you again and again that you can do this, if only you will it?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>I shall believe it, and it shall be so - now BELIEVE IT!</em>
</p>
<p>And then he'd give Harry that <em>look</em> - as if he's never been so underwhelmed in his life, but he's still waiting, still expectant, somehow, that Harry will achieve it...</p>
<p>Harry believes it, suddenly, and then raises his wand to <em>make</em> it so.</p>
<p><em>'Expecto patronum!'</em> he bellows, and the magic seems to surge out of his very soul. Everything is bright and white and rushing all around him; he can barely see for the incredible glow that is radiating from every inch of him. Soft noises are pulsing from the end of his wand as wave after wave of magic leaps up into the air around him and vanishes through the ceiling.</p>
<p>Everything is a rush of adrenaline and joy and ecstasy and <em>power</em>, and Harry is heady from it all. It's the padlock hitting the floor, the cage bursting open, warm arms wrapping around him, a soft hand on his cheek or clasped in his own, shared laughter, the feeling of <em>home;</em> Weasley jumpers and a broom handle and a box of jelly beans between friends; it's safety and trust and simple joy; teasing Hermione, bickering with Ron, Hagrid's biscuits, Sirius' barking laugh, black eyes locked on his and alight with exciteme-</p>
<p>'Holy shit!' someone exclaims, and Harry snaps back into himself and this moment.</p>
<p>The entire class is gaping at him. Harry blinks, eyes automatically searching out his best friends for reassurance. Hermione looks a little stunned, and Ron is grinning in the delighted way that means he's stupidly happy.</p>
<p>'As I said, Smith,' Ron says loudly, looking very smug, 'Harry knows what he's doing.'</p>
<p>Harry swallows, feeling abruptly self-conscious.</p>
<p>'How...?' Zabini asks dazedly, trailing off to stare incredulously at where large, glowing Shields are disappearing through the ceiling. One after another bursts from Harry's wand, showing no sign of stopping. They bloom brilliantly in the air around him, like some sort of stretched, starlit rainbow; or perhaps it is as if someone has taken a rolling pin to the moon and smoothed it out into thin sheets that curve above Harry's head and <em>shine</em>.</p>
<p>He can't stop the way his lips curve upwards in a grin.</p>
<p>'Um, Harry...?' Hermione voices tentatively, having recovered from her shock. 'There... might be people in the rooms above us?'</p>
<p>Belatedly, Harry realises that his Patronus Shields aren't going to vanish just because they're passing through the ceiling. Guiltily, he glances upwards at where they're soaring through stone and showing no sign of stopping just because there's a bit of Hogwarts in the way, and then hastily cancels the spell.</p>
<p>In the aftermath of the last Shield racing away into the rooms above them, there is a disbelieving silence.</p>
<p>'How did you do that?' Zabini demands at last, and Harry turns his attention back to his classmates.</p>
<p>'Well...' he begins, raising his wand. 'The first time I did it, I actually passed out afterwards. Probably because there were loads of Dementors at the time... but you should probably be careful to make sure you don't strain yourself.'</p>
<p>The class stares at him.</p>
<p>'You did that at thirteen?' Zabini asks flatly. <em>'That?'</em></p>
<p>Harry clears his throat. 'Yes. Anyway, you'll need to have mastered the regular Patronus Charm first, and have some really happy memories to power it... although desperation might work? Um, no, perhaps... a strong will to survive, or to save someone else... whatever it is, you've got to really <em>mean</em> it. Your will is really important for this spell - and spells in general, really.'</p>
<p>'We all want to survive,' someone points out doubtfully.</p>
<p>'Yes, but I mean - more than usual. Er, when I did it the first time, it was to save my... someone I really cared about from a bunch of Dementors that were about to suck his soul out, so I really wanted to save him...'</p>
<p>Terry Boot's eyebrows seem to be making an attempt to escape from his forehead.</p>
<p>'Ah, yes,' Zabini mutters under his breath. 'I'll just muster up the memory of the first time I danced with death and<em> a bunch of Dementors. </em>At <em>thirteen</em>.'</p>
<p>Harry pointedly ignores his sarcasm.</p>
<p>• • • • • •</p>
<p>Severus stalks into the nine o'clock meeting fully prepared to eviscerate everybody.</p>
<p>He has spent a restless night plagued by disturbing dreams of faceless, shadowy figures trying to attack Potter. Sleep came slowly and retreated quickly; it was a deprivation more than a reprieve. It goes without saying, then, that he is in a foul mood even before the DMLE representatives open their mouths.</p>
<p>And then they <em>do</em> open their mouths, and everything gets worse.</p>
<p>'You can't possibly believe that!' Minerva exclaims, torn between disbelief and utter fury.</p>
<p>The fat man Severus hasn't bothered to learn the name of puffs up and scowls across the table at Minerva. 'The boy openly admitted to threatening the life of his professor-'</p>
<p>'The professor who sexually harassed and assaulted him!' Minerva explodes, voice rising in volume as her anger overwhelms her.</p>
<p>'<em>Before</em> the alleged incident took place-'</p>
<p>'Alleged!?' Minerva repeats furiously. 'Have you conveniently forgotten all of the evidence you have just seen?!'</p>
<p>'If you are mentally deficient in some way, I suggest you save us all a lot of time and inform us now,' Severus drawls. In his chest, anger crackles like branches just caught alight.</p>
<p>The fat man transfers his scowl from Minerva to Severus, frowning angrily at him. Severus glowers back.</p>
<p>A Ministry woman, tall and thin like a breadstick and about as useful, sniffs and says coldly, 'For the duration of this meeting, I expect that we will all address each other with common decency and <em>respect</em>.' She stares pointedly at Severus.</p>
<p>Severus rather thinks she's asking for a bit much.</p>
<p>He isn't the only one who seems incapable of keeping a civil tongue in their head - five minutes of stiff, icy dialogue later, Minerva loses the last of her patience and begins yelling.</p>
<p>'HARRY POTTER DID NOT ATTEMPT TO ASSAULT ANYONE - UNLIKE THE DISGRACEFUL WOMAN ACROSS FROM ME, WHO TRIED TO <em>SEXUALLY ASSAULT A STUDENT!</em>'</p>
<p>'MADAM!' the thin woman snaps. 'Please remember that you are in a professional environment, not a backwater pub brawl!'</p>
<p>Minerva's cheeks are red - but Severus knows better than to think that the cause is embarrassment. No, the Scotswoman is cradling a fire of fury in her chest just as fierce as Severus' own.</p>
<p>'Oh?' Severus asks icily, interjecting before Minerva can lose her head entirely and cost them the meeting. 'And what is it, exactly, that you object to?'</p>
<p>'Raised voices are rude and unnecessary,' the breadstick says waspishly, 'as is the use of uncalled for derogatory language.'</p>
<p>'I assume you mean the use of the word "disgraceful"?' Snape asks flatly, and the woman nods, her face writ with disapproval. 'And how else would you describe sexual harassment and assault, if not utterly disgraceful and disgusting?' Severus asks with quiet venom, caging the woman with his eyes.</p>
<p>The human breadstick momentarily hesitates, thrown. Severus smiles as she starts to crumble.</p>
<p>'<em>Alleged</em> assault!' the fat man says when his colleague fails to answer. 'No one has been convicted of anything yet-'</p>
<p>'Including Mr Potter,' Severus says silkily.</p>
<p>'Well, yes, but-'</p>
<p>'Might I remind you that Mr Potter is the <em>victim</em> in this circumstance?' Minerva cuts in, glaring at the Ministry officials on the other side of the table. Beside them, Jenkins sits tense and quiet.</p>
<p>'A victim?!' Jenkins' lawyer splutters. 'Might I remind <em>you</em>, Mrs McGonagall, that the perpetrator you are defending threatened to <em>hex</em> a member of staff completely unprovoked, and later assaulted her with wandless magic. These are very serious accusations to be levelling against a professor who was only punishing a misbehaving student. In fact-'</p>
<p>'Since when does punishment consist of inappropriately touching a student's chest and arms?!' Minerva interrupts angrily.</p>
<p>'Self defence does not qualify as assault,' Severus adds sharply.</p>
<p>'And the correct address is <em>Headmistress</em> McGonagall,' Filius finishes pointedly.</p>
<p>'We should throw her in Azkaban!' a rather excitable Ministry official in their fifties declares suddenly, pointing brazenly at Jenkins. The woman in questions pales rapidly and yelps, 'What?!'</p>
<p>'I quite agree,' Minerva says frostily.</p>
<p>'Don't be ridiculous!' Jenkins' lawyer blusters.</p>
<p>'The Boy Who Lived, the <em>Chosen One</em>-' the excitable Ministry official says in adoring tones.</p>
<p>'You cannot allow the boy's fame to affect your judgement!' the breadstick snaps.</p>
<p>'He is not a <em>boy</em>, he is a <em>man</em>,' Filius retorts.</p>
<p>'We can't possibly push for a prosecution!' a member of the Board of Governors says in alarm. 'The school's reputation will be ruined!'</p>
<p>Another Hogwarts Governor - Severus thinks his name is Farley - suddenly looks extremely concerned. 'If it gets out to the papers that a professor assaulted <em>The Chosen One</em>...' the man says in horror.</p>
<p>'Alleged assault!' the Ministry official cries.</p>
<p>'My client is innocent!' the lawyer protests.</p>
<p>'If you refuse to take action against this wretch of a woman because you are worried about your bloody reputation, I'll be telling Mr Potter to owl every journalist in Britain!' Minerva spits. 'Or better yet, I'll be going directly to the Daily Prophet myself!'</p>
<p>The Governor squawks in outrage.</p>
<p>'I'll be sure to mention your name <em>repeatedly</em> in my many letters,' Severus adds disdainfully. 'Governor Farley, wasn't it?'</p>
<p>'You can't threaten a Governor!' Farley exclaims frantically.</p>
<p>'This is an outrage!' the other Governor declares.</p>
<p>'Finally, we agree on something,' Minerva says cuttingly.</p>
<p>Suddenly, from between the floorboards rises a great rush of magic; it is glowing white and absolutely spectacular. The swell of fantastic magic blooms up into the air around them, rising rapidly until it is stretched up to the ceiling, leaving faint, misty trails behind.</p>
<p>Severus stares, astounded, at the floorboards. Between the cracks and crevices there glows a soft white light, and soon another wave of the magic swells up and sweeps through them again. Severus startles, his body making an aborted attempt to escape the magic before it can trigger his latent curse and hurt him - but before he is even halfway out of his seat, it has passed through him, harmless and unnoticeable except for the happiness it sparks to life in his chest, soothing his burning anger.</p>
<p>The white light, Severus realises, is shaped like a disc or hemisphere; it shares a similar shape with the dome of a fully-formed Shield Charm. The feeling, though... the <em>feeling</em> it induces is like that of a hundred powerful Patroni.</p>
<p>As another bolt of power rushes through Severus, passing through his entire body and leaving him feeling tingly, he can't help but think of Lily, and bright summer days in his childhood when he thought he knew the meaning of fear and hatred, but had never come close to their truest, darkest depths. Back when his whole world was a few streets and a sparse playground where he had discovered his first and best friend.</p>
<p>The magic is incredible, bordering on intoxicating with the powerful nostalgia and peace it induces. The feeling is reminiscent of the innocence and simplicity of youth.</p>
<p>Its colouring, however, reminds him entirely and singularly of Potter.</p>
<p>Perhaps it is simply because he has been trapped in this damnable meeting for the last half hour, and in all of the previous night his thoughts had returned again and again to Potter... perhaps that is the simple yet sufficient explanation behind how quickly and undeniably he is reminded of the younger man. Yet part of him - the brutally honest part - knows that it is not that easy and innocent an explanation.</p>
<p>No, this magic feels... familiar, in a strange, new way he didn't expect. It is akin to déjà vu, except Severus knows that he <em>has</em> actually witnessed this before - had watched, enraptured, as Potter had spilled this exact same shade of magnificent magic onto the rune-carved block before him; had been forced to stifle an honest gasp of surprise and, despite his own determination not to feel it, faint <em>awe</em>...</p>
<p>This feels pure in a way only a very select few things and people in Severus' life have. His mother was the first; Lily was the lightest, the most innocent. And Potter... Potter is the most stubborn and infuriating and <em>bold</em> of the lot. His magic is just as wild and undisciplined and bloody <em>conspicuous</em> as he is; both capture the attention of everyone around them with their raw brilliance and sheer <em>impossibility</em>.</p>
<p>Infuriating. Very infuriating.</p>
<p>(And infuriatingly fascinating, too. Capable of surprising even Severus.)</p>
<p>He is proven correct in his assumption a moment later, when a grinning wizard runs into one of the portraits hanging on the wall and declares to the room that Potter's Patronus Shield has just risen through three floors without dissipating or weakening.</p>
<p>Everyone sits, momentarily stunned, as the last of the magic rises upwards and sinks into the ceiling, leaving a very faint magical white mist behind.</p>
<p>But even though it is gone, the magic is impossible to forget. Just like Potter.</p>
<p>• • • • • •</p>
<p>When the DADA lesson draws to a close, Harry can't believe how not-terribly it's gone. In fact, it almost went... <em>well</em>.</p>
<p>None of the students had managed to create a Patronus Shield, but that's alright. What matters is that they all <em>tried</em>, and no one seemed to absolutely hate Harry's teaching. Anna Eldrik had even managed to produce a blurry corporeal Patronus, which she'd apparently never achieved before.</p>
<p>Before he leaves, Zabini gives Harry a considering look. Then, to Harry's surprise, he nods his head and says simply, 'Not so bad, Potter.'</p>
<p>With that, Zabini turns and walks out of the classroom, leaving a rather startled Harry behind.</p>
<p>Once Harry is a little less dazed about getting positive feedback from <em>Blaise Zabini</em>, he grabs his bag and turns to Ron and Hermione for their honest thoughts on the class.</p>
<p>Hermione, however, is too busy having an enthusiastic discussion with the wizard in the portrait to give Harry a thorough breakdown of all of her constructive criticism for his lesson.</p>
<p>'Walter the Wilful says that your Patronus Shield rose at least three floors Harry!' Hermione exclaims excitedly once she notices that Harry is waiting behind her. 'That's incredible - you <em>have</em> to help me figure out how to do it!'</p>
<p>Harry laughs lightly, still riding the high of his relief and success. 'Sure.'</p>
<p>'You shall have a lot of interest in your talents, my friend!' Walter the Wilful declares cheerfully, beaming down at Harry.</p>
<p>Harry's eyebrows rise questioningly. 'Why?' he asks warily. 'Because of the class?'</p>
<p>'Indeed, your fellows will be eager to secure your attentions - but they shall not be your only admirers, oh no!' Walter puffs up with proud satisfaction. 'You have impressed your elders with your talents! As a matter of fact, several important guests of the Headmistress even bore witness to your display, and all were suitably amazed!'</p>
<p>Walter seems completely oblivious to the distress he is causing in his listeners. 'Guests of the Headmistress?' Harry repeats faintly, horrified.</p>
<p>'There were members of staff in the rooms above us?' Hermione asks nervously.</p>
<p>'Shit,' says Ron.</p>
<p>'Fear not, my young magi!' Walter cries hurriedly, throwing up his hands in a gesture of reassurance. His hat nearly falls off his head. 'All were awed by your spectacular skills!'</p>
<p>Harry is not reassured in the slightest. 'Am I going to get detention now?' he groans.</p>
<p>'They don't know who did it, mate,' Ron points out optimistically. Harry perks up at the realisation...</p>
<p>...And then Walter speaks again. 'Of course they know!' he retorts, offended. 'It was my duty to act as herald on my young compatriot's behalf and ensure that all knew of his achievement!'</p>
<p>'You mean you <em>told</em> them?!' Harry blurts in disbelieving alarm.</p>
<p>Walter seems to be very confused and somewhat miffed by their trepidation. 'My friends, all is well,' he says, affronted. He tips his chin up, clearly put out, and says huffily, 'I have not stained your honour so.'</p>
<p>'We know, Sir Walter,' Hermione says soothingly. 'We were merely worried that Harry would get in trouble.'</p>
<p>'Ah!' Walter declares, suddenly brightening again. 'I see! You mean to tell me that your worries for your friend clouded your judgement! Most understandable, my lady. Fear not, I shall take no offence.'</p>
<p>Hermione blinks. '...Great. I mean, that's very good of you. Thank you, Walter.'</p>
<p>Walter beams and nods as if this is a moment of great consequence. 'Do not dwell on it, my child.'</p>
<p>Hermione's nose wrinkles at the address, but she manages to quell any comments she wants to make.</p>
<p>But Ron is frowning. 'Who exactly are the guests of the Headmistress?' he asks slowly.</p>
<p>Walter straightens up again, and his hat wobbles dangerously at the sudden movement. 'Why, the Ministerial representatives, of course!'</p>
<p>Harry can feel himself pale. 'You mean the Aurors? And the DMLE? Oh, shit...'</p>
<p>He's going to be sick.</p>
<p>'It's alright, Harry,' Hermione says quickly, reaching out to touch his arm comfortingly. 'It was just a Patronus Shield - it wouldn't have hurt anybody.'</p>
<p>'But Hermione, they're up there right now deciding my case!' Harry protests with sick horror.</p>
<p>'I'm sure McGonagall is giving them hell, Harry,' Ron says firmly.</p>
<p>'My friend!' Walter interjects. 'Have I not already told you? All is well! Young Severus and the beautiful Minerva have gone to war against those who would doubt you or cast aspersions on your name! Indeed, the mighty Severus seemed ready to come to blows with the rascallion from the Departmental Enforcement!'</p>
<p>'Oh my god,' Harry moans miserably.</p>
<p>'Fear not!' Walter insists with considerable passion. 'Clever Filius' quarrels were most fearsome on your behalf! Incredible, I tell you! And Severus... spine-chilling! His glare could sear the souls of the millennia-dead, I am certain! And let us not forget the leader lioness! Oh, no! She was magnificent, my young learners! Our Lady Minerva brought hellfire down upon all who would doubt her! ''Twas glorious!'</p>
<p>Harry is starting to think that Walter was named incorrectly; he'd suit Wistful or Whimsical much better than Wilful, with the way he tends towards dramatics.</p>
<p>But despite Walter's exaggerations and wild exclamations, Harry is beginning to feel a bit calmer. Granted, Walter doesn't seem to be the most reliable source, so perhaps it is foolish to trust him to report the truth with any sort of accuracy whatsoever, but if what he claims is even halfway true then Harry's situation might not be as dire as he thought.</p>
<p>'It's alright, Harry,' Hermione says soothingly. 'The professors will handle it.'</p>
<p>For a moment, Harry wants to laugh at the deep faith Hermione still has in authority figures, even now. But then he pauses, and considers all that had happened the day before, and indeed in the last month. Things have been... better. Yes, Jenkins seems to be determined to cause as much trouble for Harry as possible, but...</p>
<p>But maybe it doesn't have to be his problem anymore. Maybe Harry can simply tell the professors when issues arise, and do nothing more than that, and just... trust that they'll handle it.</p>
<p>It's an odd notion. He hasn't felt this blindly faithful since first year. The toughened, scarred, ever-watchful part of Harry resists the idea of trusting McGonagall with anything at all.</p>
<p>But the war drums in his head and heart are silent, and Harry wants to keep them that way. He has already confronted his fears and torn down his walls; he has done what he can. Now it is time to let others do the same.</p>
<p>...Trusting others to deal with it. How strange. Itʼs not an idea that Harry is used to or fond of, but... he thinks he can learn to be.</p>
<p>'Snape will shut her up,' Ron says confidently, and Harry snorts and agrees.</p>
<p>Yes. Yes, he will. That, at least, Harry can wholeheartedly trust.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you all for your lovely comments, you guys are so sweet! The well wishers for me and My Man were particularly cute and funny.</p>
<p>Sadly ya gurl got rejected, so rip me lol. It's all good though! We're still friends and I'd rather know it's doomed than spending months hoping for the impossible.</p>
<p>Single pringles unite!</p>
<p>A n y w a y, I'm over it now so let's move swiftly onwards lol. Hope you guys liked the chapter, I had so much fun writing the meeting between Hogwarts staff and the Ministry. </p>
<p>Merry Christmas!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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